The Medical Student and his Protégé
by Sarahbob
Summary: It was on a cold December evening in 1824 that they first met. A seventeen year old brown-haired student was trudging the streets of Paris towards his apartment, desperate to get to the warmth of his rooms. Then he stumbled upon a blonde boy; cold, injured and in serious need of a friend. This story is about the building of a special friendship.
1. Chapter 1

_(Hi everyone! This fanfic is about how Combeferre and Enjolras met and how their friendship grew into something as special as it is. For all of you who are following my other fanfic 'No place for a revolutionary', please know that I haven't forgotten about that one and that an update is coming very soon! Hope you enjoy this one in the meantime)_

It was on a cold December evening in 1825 that they first met. Snow was falling that night and it wrapped the world in a spotless, virginal blanket of white. A seventeen year old brown-haired student was trudging the streets of Paris towards his apartment, desperate to get to the warmth of his rooms.

He had only just moved to the city to study Medicine and still had to find his way around. Although his classes were fascinating to say the least, the student was easily distracted by the city life around him.

Yes, there was plenty of richness and beauty to be seen, if you knew where to look. The poverty however, was what shocked the boy from the country in Southern France to his very core. Of course, he had known about the miserable life of the poor. But seeing it in real life was something else entirely. It hurt his heart.

Sunken deep into thought, the medical student almost fell over a hunched man, who was leaning heavily against the city walls. "Excuse me monsieur", he said gently. The figure didn't respond, only shook his head and turned away, obviously trying to hide his face.

Combeferre, for that was the name of the medical student, eyed the man carefully. No, not a man, only a boy. Maybe even still a child. Blonde curls, somewhat darkened by the filth of the streets, successfully covered the boys eyes. He was holding himself in a seemingly uncomfortable way and his whole body was shaking from cold. Combeferre knew instantly the boy had to be injured in some way.

Even though the blonde looked dirty enough to fade away into the sweepings of the street, his clothing surely wasn't one often seen on the poor. It confused Combeferre to say the least. What was an obviously wealthy child doing hurt, dirty and alone in the slumps of Paris, in the snow, at night?

Without hesitating he placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and gently turned him around, so he could face him. The blonde flinched, but did not fight him. "Are you alright?", Combeferre asked him.

The boy looked Combeferre in the eyes and then shrugged him off defiantly, mumbling he was perfectly fine and certainly not in need of any help. The medical student frowned at that, he surely begged to differ. Before he could respond however, the boy turned again and tried to walk away.

He only made it a couple of steps before he collapsed against the wall again; hissing at the pain the movement had caused him. He refused to look back at Combeferre however and pushed himself up, trying to regain a steady footing but failing miserably. This time he fell forward and the medical student was only just in time to catch him.

"Get off me", the boy all but spat at him, although there was not nearly as much power behind his words as he would have wanted there to be. He tried to push away again and Combeferre let him, although he kept close so he would be able to catch the blonde should he fall again.

"I don't need your help, leave me alone", the boy said again. But Combeferre had already made his decision. How could he, a medical student, abandon this person now while he was so obviously in need of help. Every fiber in his body screamed at him to just swoop the boy up and carry him to his apartment, but something told him this defiant child would not appreciate it all that much. So instead, he asked: "Can I get you to your home or parents perhaps? They must be worried."

The blonde boy laughed darkly which resulted in a bout of harsh coughing. "I wouldn't be so sure of that monsieur", he mumbled sourly. "My parents don't live here. I just moved to Paris on my own account and I can manage my way home perfectly fine."

Combeferre was shocked to say the least. The boy couldn't be a day over fourteen. He was a son of wealthy parents that much was clear, and yet he was all alone in this city. "Well, where do you live if I may ask?"

The boy didn't answer at first, but then muttered he still was figuring that one out. _So he has been roaming the streets all this time, _Combeferre thought. There was no way now he would leave this boy alone. "I'm sure you are capable of caring for yourself, but my apartment is not far from here. You look as if you haven't eaten or slept in a few days; you're cold and my apartment is warm. Please, do me a favor and get some rest there. At least stay for the night", he said, hoping the boy would just oblige. He didn't know the boy at all and yet he felt strangely protective of him.

"I don't need any charity monsieur", the blonde answered, although his whole body seemed to scream for help. "But you are right, I am cold and tired. And you are very generous to offer me a place to stay for the night. I will pay you back, that much I promise."

"There is hardly any need", Combeferre answered. He sighed in relieve. "It is that way". He offered the boy a hand, but it was roughly pushed away.

The small distance to his apartment took a lot longer than necessary. The blonde insisted on walking himself, too proud to accept any help from the older student. It was only when the trembling got so bad and his knees started buckling with every step he took that Combeferre had enough and just took the boy in his arms, despite his harsh words of resistance. There was no way the blonde was able to get up the stairs by himself anyway.

"That was rude monsieur", the boy said to him, standing on his own feet again when they arrived at his front door. But before he could say more, he made a soft, pained noise; his eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out, nearly falling back down the stairs as he did. It didn't surprise Combeferre all that much. The boy looked dead on his feet and it was only expected his exhausted body and mind gave up on him.

Combeferre once again took his protégé in his arms and carried him inside. He was now shaking uncontrollably and the medical student put him in his own bed and covered him with blankets.

He'd gladly take all the curses and insults the proud boy was no doubt going to throw his way tomorrow. But at least for now, he was warm and safe.

_(So this is a new idea for a story. A story where I want to show the beginning of the friendship between Combeferre and Enjolras, based entirely on my own imagination of course. Did you like it and should I continue? Please let me know!)_


	2. Chapter 2

_(Thank you all so much for your reviews and support. Means a lot. I was actually planning on updating my other story, but this just wouldn't let go of me. Hope you like it!)_

Combeferre woke up to the sound of a loud clattering. He had fallen asleep late the previous night after wondering and worrying about the boy he had put in his bed after he had collapsed from exhaustion. The boy had been sleeping sound for the whole night and Combeferre had moved to his sofa to make himself more comfortable. Apparently, had had fallen asleep there.

When he opened his eyes he saw the boy stumbling around the room. He picked up the kettle that had fallen on the floor and then looked apologetically at the medical student. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you", he said quietly.

Combeferre watched the boy grab his jacket from the floor and looked at the clock on the wall. It was only seven o'clock in the morning. Surely the boy did not have to be anywhere at this hour. "That's quite alright", he said in response, "are you going somewhere?"

The boy nodded shortly. "I am indeed. I've been making use of your hospitality for far too long I'm afraid. Don't get me wrong, I am very grateful and as I said, I will pay you back as soon as possible. But I'm feeling better now and it's time for me to go. I've got things to do and I don't wish to be any kind of bother to you any longer monsieur."

Combeferre raised an eyebrow. "You've hardly been a bother, kid. All you did was sleep." He highly doubted the blonde was feeling any better. He didn't look better at all. He was panting slightly; he had a feverish kind of blush on his cheeks and he was obviously limping, even though he tried his very best to hide it. On top of that, he had an arm draped around his torso constantly to keep it from moving too much.

"In your bed monsieur, which was very rude of me", the boy said, while turning around and stumbling towards the door. He leaned heavily against the doorframe for a second, catching his breath and said: "Thank you again monsieur, for your kindness. Have a good day."

Before he could close the door behind him however, Combeferre spoke up. "Wait just a minute! There can't be much for you to be doing at this hour. You have not eaten anything yet; you've hardly any clothes on you and have you looked outside?" It was snowing and undoubtedly freezing cold. "Where on earth do you have to go right now? You told me yesterday your parents don't live here and you don't have your own place to stay. You can barely walk and you look like you're about to collapse any second."

The boy gave him an icy look. "I don't think any of that is of your concern monsieur." And with that he closed the door and was gone, leaving a confused Combeferre behind. He let himself fall back on the sofa with a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. Why would he be this concerned anyway. It wasn't like he knew the kid or was in any way obligated to help him. Accept perhaps for his own feeling of obligation to help anyone in need of medical care. Yet he couldn't shake that strange protective feeling he had had ever since he had laid eyes on the boy.

He scratched his head and then stood up. He was awake now. _Might as well get some work to do before classes start_, he thought. Today would be a long one. He had classes until three and then he had to assist at the hospital until seven.

While he tried desperately to memorize the location of each muscle in the human body, his mind kept going back to the blonde boy wandering the snowy streets of Paris injured and in nothing more than an undershirt and jacket. _Stop it Combeferre_, he thought. _You don't even know him. You've offered him a place to stay; food to eat. If he doesn't want your help, there 's not much else you can do._ But no matter what he told himself, he couldn't shake that worried feeling.

The day crept by very slowly. Classes were not nearly as fascinating as they had been so far, although that might had more to do with Combeferre's interest being somewhere else than in the pro's and con's of bloodletting. His work at the hospital was limited to ordering papers and guiding patients to their beds. He wasn't allowed to do anything else yet, since he was only a medical student in his first year.

Then the clock finally stroke seven and he could go home. He tightened his jacket around him and hid as much of his face as possible in his shawl to keep the sharp cold out. He sure hoped and prayed the boy had found a warm place to stay for the night.

He only had to walk a short distance to his apartment and he wouldn't have to leave again until the day after tomorrow, because he didn't have classes or work the next day. He was in such a hurry to get back inside he almost missed the curly-haired boy leaning against the apartment building. He was looking firmly to the ground and tried to get the shivers running through his body under control. Which of course he couldn't.

Combeferre was surprised to say the least, momentarily lost for words. He eyed the boy from head to toe. _God_, he thought_, he looks awful. _Then the blonde raised his head. He had dark smudges under his eyes, which were glazed over by fever and exhaustion, but he still had that proud and defiant look. He cleared his throat and said: "I tried to get you back the money I owe you for letting me stay last night, but I couldn't find anyone who would give me work." He hesitated and looked to the ground again. "I don't normally ask for favours. Especially not from people I don't know and certainly not when I can't repay them for their services. But I don't have a place to stay and honestly, I don't feel very well and you are the only person in Paris I know. And trust." He added those last words with a small smile.

Combeferre felt his heart jump a little. A warm feeling spreading through his body and only because the boy had come back to him because he trusted him. He then realised he still hadn't said anything. "Uh, yes, of course you can stay. I'm actually really glad you came back. You had me worrying all day." He didn't mean to say that, but it just slipped out. The boy frowned at that. "Why? You don't even know me."

The medical student didn't answer that. He motioned for the boy to follow him up the stairs towards his apartment. As he expected, the blonde refused any help. In front of the door they paused. Combeferre turned around to face him: "You can stay on one condition. You have to let me check you over. I know you're hurt and sick, despite your efforts to hide it from me."

The boy looked at Combeferre with wide eyes. "I'm a medical student", he added. The blonde pursed his lips and nodded. "Fine, if it matters to you that much. I don't owe you any explanations however." Combeferre frowned and looked at the boy sceptically. "Very well", he said, "May I at least know your name, or should I just call you 'kid'?"

'Kid' scowled and growled he was nearly fifteen years old and therefore certainly not a child. "My name is Enjolras", he then said.

"Alright, Enjolras, welcome back to my humble apartment. My name is Combeferre and I'm turning eighteen in a few months." He then opened the door and led Enjorlas inside. He couldn't explain that amused, comfortable and excited feeling filling his heart when his blonde companion smiled shyly at him.

Enjolras went straight for the sofa, but Combeferre grabbed him gently by the shoulders and steered him towards his bed. Enjolras was about to protest but Combeferre held up his hand, silencing him successfully. When he had placed the blonde on the bed, he threw a blanket around his shaking shoulders and then he started looking for his medical supplies. He felt Enjolras watch his every move.

He returned to the bed with water, bandages, thread and needle, some sort of soothing lotion and Laudanum. He noticed Enjolras' nervous swallow and rapid blinking and suppressed a smile. _He might be nearly fifteen but he definitely still has a fear for doctors. _"Don't worry, I have a very gentle touch", he said winking friendly. It earned him another smile.

"I noticed you were holding you're torso earlier, may I remove your shirt for a minute to examine?" Enjolras hesitatingly put a hand around his ribs and averted his eyes. "It was our deal, remember?", Combeferre said softly. The blonde looked back up, nodded and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Combeferre couldn't hold back the gasp once the boy's body was shirtless. He was covered in bruises. Black and blue. And there were several cuts as well. Enjolras bit his lip and looked away.

"Mon Dieu", he breathed and he gently placed a hand on the boy's arm. "How did this happen?" he asked and he searched Enjolras' face to make eye contact. Enjolras looked up, eyes filled with tears he did not want to shed. "No explanations, that was our deal remember?", he whispered. He took a shaky breath and turned his head away from Combeferre.

The medical student opened his mouth but closed it again. The kid barely knew him. Of course he would not push him if he didn't want to tell. So instead he nodded and got back to work. He gently prodded the skin, searching for any broken bones – which luckily weren't there, although there were some severely bruised ribs – and cleaned and bandaged the small cuts. Combeferre apologized every time his patient hissed or gasped at the pain.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?", Combeferre asked, hoping he wouldn't be, but remembering the limp the boy had earlier. Enjolras motioned towards his feet. "The ankle?", Combeferre asked. Enjolras once again only nodded. Fortunately his ankle was only twisted and should heal well without any bandages or splint.

He then opened the bottle of Laudanum and poured some of the liquid in a small cup. "Here, drink this", he said when he put the cup in Enjolras' hand.

"What is it?", the blonde asked.

"It's called Laudanum, you've probably heard of it? It takes the pain away and helps you sleep. You need to sleep."

For the first time since they met, Enjolras didn't protest. He swallowed the medicine, wincing at its bitter taste and looked at Combeferre again. "Thank you", he whispered.

The older boy smiled sympathetically and covered the boy with a blanket. "Get some rest. And no sneaking out tomorrow morning. You're staying here at least until I say you're well enough to go." He meant it. There was no way he was letting the kid leave now. Not after what he had seen.

Enjolras didn't say anything, but only closed his eyes. He was asleep within seconds. Combeferre gently pulled a hand through the boy's curls. He still had to clean some of the dirt away, but it could wait. Sleep was what the kid needed the most now. So, he silently stood and put away the medical supplies. It was still fairly early, so he went to his desk and decided to work on his studies, looking back to the young patient in his bed every other minute. Just to make sure he was still there.

TBC.

_(Another chapter done. Hope you liked it! Please let me know and review. I'm dying to know what you think of this chapter!)_


	3. Chapter 3

_(Thank you so much, dear reviewers, followers and favorite'ers. You make my day! Nothing better than to receive that e-mail saying someone has commented on my story. Here's another chapter of 'The Medical Student and his Protégé'. I sure hope you like it. Enjoy!)_

Enjolras woke up feeling even more tired than when he had gone to sleep. His head ached and his throat was sore. So were his muscles. Despite feeling miserable, he had slept better than he had in days. He slowly cracked open his eyes. It was still dark in the room, but if he squinted he could make out the clock on the wall. It was barely morning.

Waking at the crack of dawn had been nothing new for Enjolras. He always woke up early. There would be punishment if he didn't. His father did not care much for late sleepers. Though now, he wished he could've just remained asleep for a little while longer. He carefully turned around in the bed, wincing every time his bruised torso was jostled too much. When he finally found a comfortable enough position, he searched the dark for the other man in the apartment. Enjolras found him spread out on the sofa, covered with another blanket and glasses still on his nose.

Enjolras couldn't help but smile a little as he watched the sleeping man. Being here in his apartment made him feel safer than he had in a very long time. It had been so long, he had almost forgot how it felt to be safe. The boy sighed deeply and turned on his back again. Staring at the ceiling, he let his mind wander for a bit.

He thought of his family. Of the courage he finally had found to leave _him_ in search for a better life. The journey to Paris had been hard to say the least. He didn't have any money on him and had been dependent on those kind enough to offer him a seat in their carriage. It helped that he looked wealthy enough. Proud as he was, Enjolras did not like to be dependent on anyone. He didn't like others – strangers – to do him favours when he wasn't able to repay them. It went against everything he believed in. _But I had to get out. I had to get away. I couldn't stay with him any longer._

Enjolras once again looked at his kind saviour. He was immensely grateful and he was glad there were still some good people around who were willing to help those in need. It was what he strived to do as well. But he didn't like to be the one in need. He didn't like to be saved. It felt wrong to be sleeping in a bed not his own, while Combeferre slept on a sofa. It felt wrong to feel warm and safe while so many others slept outside in the cold. He felt guilty and he hated that feeling. And yet, when he thought about it, he would have done the exact same thing as the medical student without any second thought. Of course he would.

_As soon as I'm able to I will repay monsieur Combeferre_, he thought. _I will look for work. I'll do any work._ He didn't want to be indebted to anyone. _I'll get the money; I'll get my own place to stay and I will help others as much as he has helped me. If only things could change. If only there was more equality. If only there was something I could do – really do – to make a difference. There has to be a way._ Enjolras glanced at Combeferre again and all but jumped when he saw two eyes staring back at him.

"You're thinking so loud not even a deaf man could sleep", the medical student joked. He smiled reassuringly and sat up. "You're quite the early bird aren't you. Well at least you're still in bed, can't say it's not a relief."

Enjolras didn't say anything. He just watched as Combeferre stood and walked over to his bedside. He couldn't help but feel a little nervous. He didn't know the medical student at all and even though he thought him very kind and friendly, he couldn't help but feeling worried he had angered him in any way. Those feelings were put to rest almost as soon as they came up however as Combeferre spoke.

"It's okay Enjolras, relax. Don't worry so much, it's not good for you. Believe me I would know", he chuckled. He placed a cool hand on Enjolras' forehead and frowned a little at the heat he felt. He couldn't say he was surprised however. The kid had been out in the snow for days wearing only a thin jacket. "How are you feeling?" he asked gently.

Enjolras couldn't help but lean into his soothing touch, closing his eyes for a second. "I'm fine", he mumbled tiredly. When he opened his eyes again, he was met with a pair of amused, but sceptical eyes. He smiled shyly and shrugged his shoulders. "Well maybe not completely fine", he admitted, feeling a blush colouring his cheeks.

Combeferre nodded and offered the boy a glass of water. "Drink some of this. Then you're going to wash up, because we've really got to get that dirt of you and then I'll take another look at your injuries. Do you think you can eat something as well?" When Enjolras swallowed convulsively and shook his head, Combeferre grinned and said. "Maybe later then. But you do have to drink that. Keep you hydrated."

Enjolras obeyed and drank half of the water. He really wasn't looking forward to washing up however. Not only did it sound painful; Combeferre also made it sound like a two-person job and Enjolras really did not see that happen. He watched nervously as the medical student moved towards the bathroom saying he had warm water prepared and would be back to help him in a minute.

"I can walk myself", Enjolras muttered stubbornly, pushing himself from the bed to stand on wobbly feet. Combeferre reluctantly agreed, but kept close so he could catch the boy should he stumble or fall. Enjolras looked up smugly at Combeferre when he reached the bathtub by himself, but his grin faltered as he realised he wouldn't be able to get undressed without any help.

Combeferre sensed the boy's embarrassment and tried to keep his face as normal as possible while he helped Enjolras out of his shirt, removed the bandages and then helped him into the bathtub, still dressed in his undergarment. "I'll give you some privacy, wash up and don't forget your hair. I'll be waiting just outside." Enjolras felt grateful but couldn't help himself when he said teasingly: "Thanks mom." Combeferre laughed heartily. "Yeah, you wish kid."

Enjolras did as he was told. He felt happy to finally be able to clean himself again. He hated to be that dirty and it only made him that more determined to help those who lived in filth their entire life. When he was done, he noticed the clothing Combeferre had left on a chair. He stood on shaky legs and stepped out of the tub, reaching for the towel. He knew there was no way he was able to dress himself, it would hurt his ribs too much.

Still he tried and he regretted it as soon as he bend over a few inches. He couldn't hold back the small pained gasp and felt tears prickling his eyes. He blinked them away fast and pressed his lips together. He didn't really have a choice. He knew he didn't. So he swallowed his pride, cleared his throat and called for the medical student.

When Combeferre heared his name, he first thought the boy would be ready to get back to his bed. But when he opened the door fully he saw him still wrapped in the towel, his face a deep shade of red. He silently cursed himself for not realising earlier that Enjolras' wouldn't be able to get dressed by himself with his entire upper body covered in bruises and shaking the way he was.

"I...I tried to do it by myself...but I didn't...I couldn't...", the boy was stuttering, looking to the floor in shame. Combeferre wanted to hug the kid , but that would only scare him. So he walked over calmly and silently helped him in his clothes. "It's alright Enjolras", he mumbled gently, "There's really no need to feel ashamed." He squeezed the boy's shaking shoulders in a poor attempt to reassure him.

Without any more words, he swooped the kid up in his arms again and carried him back to his bed. His worry spiking some more when he noticed the boy was even warmer to the touch than before. Enjolras had fallen completely silent and refused to meet Combeferre's eyes as the medical student bandaged his wounds again. "Hey", he said softly when he was finished, "look at me."

Enjolras reluctantly did so. "Would you stop feeling this embarrassed? There is really no need." The boy smiled lightly, but didn't seem all that convinced. Combeferre sighed and offered the kid the rest of the water that was still left in the glass.

"Don't you have anywhere to go today?" Enjolras asked Combeferre silently. He seemed to force himself to act normal again. "I mean, you're a student right? Do you have any classes today?" He hoped he didn't. Even though he would never admit it, he didn't want to be alone right now. To his relief Combeferre shook his head. "I have the day off."

Enjolras nodded and they both were silent for a while. Then Combeferre noticed Enjolras was watching his bookcase with childlike admiration. He smiled. "You like my collection?"

"You sure have many books. I can't say I like them though, I do not know what's in your collection now do I?" the boy said without tearing his eyes away from the case. Combeferre chuckled. Surely was a witty kid. He stood and walked towards his most treasured possession in the apartment. "Well, let's see, what do you like?"

"Do you have anything by Rousseau?"

Combeferre raised his eyebrows in surprise. Surely he had misunderstood. "Rousseau?"

"Yes, Rousseau. Jean-Jacques Rousseau. The philosopher who influenced the French Revolution!"

Combeferre opened his mouth and closed it again, smiling. The boy kept amazing him. He turned to the bookcase and pulled out _The Social Contract, or Principles of Political Right_. He handed the work over to the youngling in his bed.

"Fantastic!", Enjolras exclaimed happily. "I've been wanting to read this since years but my father wouldn't let me!"

Combeferre didn't miss the shiver running through the boy's body when he mentioned his father, but he didn't comment on it. He was sure said father also had something to do with those bruises on his body.

He watched the boy amused as was totally engrossed in the book. He smiled to himself and moved back to the bathroom to wash up himself.

He was amazed by the effect Enjolras had on him. It had only been two days, he didn't know much about the boy's life – although he could guess a few things – and yet he felt so attached to the blue eyed kid. As if he had known him all his life. It felt as if something had been missing his entire life and now the boy had filled that void. He hoped he would never leave.

TBC.

_(Ah and another chapter done! Hope you like this one. I'm really enjoying writing this story, it makes me smile. Please let me know what you think! Till next time!)_


	4. Chapter 4

_(Hi there! So this chapter took some time to get up because I've been so caught up with studies and my other story lately. It's been hard to focus on all three, but here it is. Hope you like this one, enjoy!)_

It had been a few hours since the boy in Combeferre's bed had succumbed to sleep again. He had been so engrossed in the book he was reading, that he had tried to ignore his growing exhaustion for as long as he possibly could until, finally, he had fallen asleep on top of the Rousseau, successfully using it as a pillow.

Combeferre found it endearing to say the least, although he would never tell the boy that out loud. He could almost feel the furious glare that would be thrown his way. He had been pretending to work on his studies while Enjolras was reading his book, but in reality, he had been observing the boy closely. That is until the blonde looked up and friendly, albeit a bit coolly, asked him subtly to mind his own business instead of watching him read.

Combeferre had frowned amused and had continued the essay he was working on. When he had looked up again a little while later, Enjolras had passed out on top of his book, sound asleep. The medical student had carefully removed the book and then pulled the covers over the boy. He made sure to put the book on the nightstand next to the bed, so Enjolras could continue reading it when he woke up. It amazed Combeferre to see how far in the book the boy had already come.

Now, a few hours later, Combeferre's amazement was replaced once again by worry. The boy's temperature had risen too high for the medical's students liking and his body was now wracked with feverish shivers. He unconsciously tried to pull the covers up higher; to bury himself under them, while curling in on himself in a desperate attempt to get warmer.

Combeferre had feared this would happen ever since he noticed the feverish blush on the boy's face the night prior. Enjolras had no doubt caught a severe cold during his long walks through the snowy streets of Paris and Combeferre prayed it wouldn't turn into something more serious. He had placed himself firmly on the edge of the bed as he tried to untangle the blanket from the blonde.

Enjolras moaned pitifully in response. He reluctantly opened his eyes and tried to glare at Combeferre, but his eyes were unfocused and glazed over by fever, so he failed miserably. "I'm so cold", he whispered instead and he tried to wrap himself in his blanket once again. Combeferre nodded and placed a cool hand on the boy's forehead, frowning at the heat he felt. He then pulled a thermometer out of his medical bag which he had positioned next to the bed and motioned for Enjolras to open his mouth.

The blonde did as he was told and Combeferre slid the thermometer under his tongue, absentmindedly stroking Enjorlas' curls in an attempt to comfort him. Although his first reflex was to pull away, Enjolras found the touch quite comforting indeed, so he let Combeferre continue and tried to shift his attention from feeling miserable to focusing on his new found friends' soothing touch.

When Combeferre pulled the thermometer out of the Enjolras' mouth, it read 103 F. The medical student pressed his lips together and cursed inwardly. "Got to get that temperature down", he then mumbled silently, more to himself than to Enjolras. The blonde watched closely as Combeferre stood up to collect water, a cloth and again that bottle of Laudanum, which Enjolras really didn't look forward to taking.

Combeferre returned to the bed and smiled sadly at the boy. "You're not going to like it, but I've got to get that fever down Enjolras", he said gently. He then reached out and pulled the covers down to the boys waist, causing him to shiver more violently. "No, please", he whispered weakly as he tried to get the blanket back up. "Please, I'm so cold." But Combeferre did not give in and softly batted Enjolras' hands away from the covers.

He then unbuttoned the top of Enjolras' shirt so he had better access to the boy's neck and shoulders. He wasn't surprised when the blonde gasped in shock as soon as the cold, moist cloth made contact with his too hot skin. Combeferre placed one cloth on Enjolras' forehead, while moving with another around his neck, shoulders and upper torso. Enjolras only started to tremble more and he tried to squirm away from the touch that felt like knives of ice trying to pierce his body.

Combeferre held him still however and for that he whimpered weakly (something he would never admit to or believe in the future). The medical student resumed his stroking of Enjolras' hair in a desperate attempt to distract the boy from the uncomfortable cold. It only helped a little. Combeferre replaced the cloth on Enjolras' forehead and the one he was using a few times and after a little while of trying to cool the boy's body down, he once again placed the thermometer under Enjolras' tongue. It now read 102 F. _Still too high, but it'll do for now_, Combeferre thought.

He offered Enjolras' the Laudanum to help him sleep more comfortably, but the blonde refused. He didn't like the medicine at all, it made his defences even weaker than they already were and it dulled his nerves. Combeferre didn't force it on him and for that Enjolras was glad. He was still terribly cold though and he doubted if he could fall back asleep without at least a little bit of warmth. He looked up at Combeferre with pleading eyes. "Please Combeferre, I'm so cold, can I please have the blanket back?" His winced at the weakness and the near begging tone of his own voice.

"Only for as long as your temperature doesn't rise up again", Combeferre answered as he pulled the blankets back up. He didn't remove the cloth from the boy's forehead. Enjolras was immensely grateful for the covers, although they gave him far too little warmth as he had hoped. He closed his eyes and he heard Combeferre's voice asking something, but his mind was too hazed to comprehend what it was. He frowned his confusion and mumbled unintelligibly.

Then he felt a gentle squeeze of his hand and he opened his eyes. Combeferre was hovering right above him. He felt a hand below his shoulders, pushing him up a little. "I said you need to drink some water, then you can go back to sleep", Combeferre said as he supported the boy and set the cup at his lips. Enjolras nodded and took a few sips.

"I'm sorry", he muttered quietly when Combeferre removed the water.

"For what?"

"For being a burden", Enjolras whispered sleepily. "I don't like to be a burden, I try not to but I always fail." There was something resembling defeat in his voice and it didn't suit him.

Combeferre clenched his teeth. He cursed the person who ever put that idea in the boy's head. "You're _not_ a burden, Enjolras and don't ever say that to me again. You'll never be a burden. You're just sick, it is hardly your fault." The blonde frowned unconvinced but kept his eyes closed. Combeferre sighed and once again pulled a hand through Enjolras' hair. With that, the boy fell back into blissful darkness.

TBC.

_(There we go! Poor, young, sick Enjolras. I hope you liked this chapter, please let me know what you think! I'll try to update my other story today as well, but I'm not making any promises! Till next time!)_


	5. Chapter 5

_(Hi guys! Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews, they're highly appreciated! Hope you like this next chapter, I have to admit, I'm struggling a little bit with the inspiration for this story. But I'm doing my best. Enjoy!)_

The next days passed in a blur for Enjolras. He wasn't aware of much, except for the persistent cold, a pounding headache and Combeferre's soothing, comforting voice and gentle touch. The latter was always more than welcome after the many feverish nightmares he was experiencing. Nightmares of past times he did not want to remember.

He was lingering between dream and reality; never really knowing what was true and what was imagination. Only the ever consistent presence of Combeferre made him feel grounded in some way. He was able to pull him back whenever he was lost to the tricks his mind played on him; to the memories he was forced to relive.

He had lost all track of time and space. He found himself mostly lying in a bed, but he was almost certain he had also been drowning in a bath full of ice at one point. He was barely lucid, and every time he opened his eyes, it seemed to be night, for it was always dark. He felt like he was fighting an endless battle; never able to get some proper rest, even though all he did was sleep.

Sometimes, at those precious moments Combeferre's voice seemed to get through to his fever clouded mind, he heard the young medical student coaxing him into drinking water. Once he even thought he heard Combeferre plead with him to get better. To keep fighting, to not give up. And at some point, when the nightmares were particularly strong, he heard him say that everything was going to be alright; that he was safe and taken care of.

Enjolras often found himself ask why Combeferre would care so much. They didn't know each other. Combeferre owed him nothing. Enjolras owed him everything. A voice, sounding terrifyingly similar to his father's told him it was all a trick. A trick into getting Enjolras indebted forever, so the medical student could do with him as he pleased.

His own rational voice of course tried to block his fever/fathers' voice out with all its might, but there were times it wasn't strong enough and at those times he shied away from Combeferre. He tried to get him to leave, his mouth was blurting out insults he did not even understand. But no matter how bad these 'fits' would be, his new friend never left his side.

Enjolras had a hard time trusting people. He had grown up being suspicious at people's so called good intentions. But not with Combeferre. Even though he tried his best not to, he found that he almost immediately trusted the other man in a way he had not yet experienced in his life. Not even with his mother.

It was after a particular bad night terror his trust in Combeferre rose to levels he didn't even knew existed. He had fallen in a full blown, fever infused panic attack, nearly giving himself a heart attack in the process. He had experienced such an attack once and no one had been able to calm him down or to reassure him. But Combeferre had climbed into the bed next to him. He had held his trembling body; he had murmured words of comfort and he had let Enjolras pour out his emotions without punishing him for it – something Enjolras really was not used to.

He had fallen asleep in Combeferre's arms that time – the first peaceful sleep he had since the fever spiked the first time. It was in the middle of that night that Enjolras' fever finally broke.

Combeferre was scared. He had witnessed how the boy sleeping in his bed had gone from being bad to worse and then to being deadly ill. He had already feared it might get out of hand, but he had prayed to God he had taken the boy in in time.

For almost a week, Combeferre found himself nursing a terribly sick Enjolras back to health. There were times he was sure he would pull through; there were times Combeferre was on the verge of taking the boy to a hospital and to an experienced doctor and then there were times Combeferre feared the blonde would not make it through the next night.

He had skipped classes and work and dedicated every second of his time to Enjolras. He spend his time trying to cool the boy's body down; coaxing him into drinking water and sometimes Laudanum; and calming him down after a nightmare of feverish fit. When the fever had spiked to a dangerous 106 F, Combeferre had plunged the boy in a bath of melted snow. He could still hear the wretched sounds Enjolras had made, but it had been necessary. His temperature luckily never rose that high afterwards.

Even though the nightmares were heartbreaking to witness, Combeferre didn't wake Enjolras up every time. The boy's body needed the rest and if he could only get it while accompanied by bad dreams, then so be it. Besides, it was during these moments that the medical student got to know a little more about Enjolras' past. It wasn't much, but through the mumbling and the whispering and the pleading, Combeferre was now determined he was never letting this boy back to his parent's home ever again.

The medical student did his best to be a solid presence for Enjolras to build on during his fever ridden days. Sometimes it seemed to work very well; at other times Enjolras fought him with all his might, but Combeferre never faltered.

For a week, Combeferre had hardly slept more than four hours a night. He would often wake up to the sound of Enjolras' experiencing another nightmare; other times he would just wake up because his own worry and concern for the boy would withhold him from sleeping many hours on end.

One time he woke up to a terrifyingly, heartbreaking shout and he found his protégé twisting and turning in his bed, body drenched in sweat, tears streaming down his face. And no matter what Combeferre did, he couldn't get Enjolras to wake up from the terror that was plaguing him. As a sort of last resort, he just climbed into bed with the boy. He held him in a tight embrace, tugging the blonde's head under his chin and he started a sort of mantra of comforting words.

Enjolras had first resisted the medical student's hold, but Combeferre's ever present calm and patience finally seemed to seep into Enjolras as well. He didn't wake, but he slowly started to relax against Combeferre's body, relishing in his warmth and protectiveness. Combeferre let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when Enjolras' pulse and breathing eventually slowed down. He was now sleeping peacefully and Combeferre couldn't find it in his heart to leave the boy now. So he stayed and he kept hold of the blonde and he finally fell back to sleep himself.

He woke a few hours later to movement next to him. When he opened his eyes, he was met with a pair of blue ones, for the first time since a long time lucid and clear. "Please 'Ferre, I didn't want to wake you, but it's really warm", he said in a small wracked voice.

Combeferre looked at the boy with wide eyes. He was wet with sweat and seemed to be more than a little confused. His eyes were half open, and though no longer glazed over, they were still shining with exhaustion. He then realised he was still holding Enjolras close. Combeferre placed a hand on the boy's head and all but gasped. He then climbed out of the bed immediately in search of the thermometer. He was already certain the fever had broken, he recognized the signs, but it was something he had been praying for so long, he just didn't dare to believe it so soon. He needed prove.

Enjolras didn't say much, just watched Combeferre hurry around the room. He tried to get a grip on the events of the past days but everything was just so confusing and hazy. He also couldn't really remember why Combeferre was with him in the bed in the first place, but he did know it felt safe and nice, so he hadn't freaked out when he woke up. That was until he became unbearably hot.

Combeferre returned with the thermometer, placing it carefully under Enjolras' tongue. When he pulled it out, it read 102 F. It was still a fever, but Combeferre could've cried when he saw the numbers. "Thank God", he mumbled as he gently ruffled Enjolras' hair. Enjolras frowned but didn't pull away. "Your fever finally broke", Combeferre added.

When Combeferre asked Enjolras how he was feeling he said: "I'm not really sure. Tired I guess and sore, but otherwise okay. I don't remember much, how long have I been ill?"

Combeferre snorted. "You've been drifting in and out of a sort of fever ridden sleep for a week now."

"A week?" Enjolras raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Well, I guess it would explain why you're looking the way you do." The comment earned him a smile and an insult of his own looks, but Combeferre's face turned serious almost immediately.

"It's been really close Enjolras", he mumbled, gently forcing a cup of water between the boy's lips. "You've actually had me fearing you wouldn't make it a couple of times."

Enjolras watched Combeferre closely for a bit. He remembered flashes of his concerned face; his constant and comforting voice; of the calming effect of his presence. And a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips when he remembered that feeling of trust. A feeling that was still very much present. "I'm sorry", he said earnestly. "I'm feeling better now, I promise."

Combeferre chuckled and looked to the ground, hiding the sudden overwhelming wave of emotions threatening to flood him. When he looked back up he brushed a few curls out of Enjolras' eyes. "Yes, I'm sure you are. You'd better go to sleep before you start telling me you're – and I quote – actually feeling completely fine and don't need any help whatsoever."

Enjolras threw him an amused, albeit slightly annoyed look before closing his eyes. Before he let sleep overtake him, he scooted over in the bed to make room and mumbled softly: "Better get some sleep yourself then and fix those horrid looking black smudges under your eyes. They creep me out."

Another laugh. A warm, heartfelt laugh, infused with relief, joy and sadness at the same time. Combeferre accepted the invitation and climbed into bed, throwing the blankets over both of them. They stayed silent for a while. And when Combeferre was almost asleep, he heard a quiet "Thank you" next to him. He then drifted off with a smile on his face.

TBC.

_(Yay, another chapter done! Like I said at the beginning, I am kind of struggling with this story. If you have any ideas or advice for me on how to continue it, please let me know. Your opinion is highly appreciated. Hope you liked this chapter though and till next time!)_


	6. Chapter 6

_(Hi everyone! Thank you so much for the reviews, follows and favorites and for sticking with this story in general. I really appreciate it. Also, thank you all for the ideas you gave me. They honestly help a lot, so if you think of something, do let me know :) For now, enjoy this chapter!)_

Enjolras woke up feeling relatively better than he had in days. He wasn't too hot or too cold, but comfortable and the headache had reduced to a small pounding in the back of his head. Nothing he couldn't handle. But he did feel utterly drained. As if all his strength and energy had been sucked away from him and now he had to start rebuilding that strength from the bottom up, but he was too fatigued to do it.

Tiredly he blinked open his eyes and noticed the empty space beside him. He pushed himself up weakly and looked around the room, searching for the brown-haired boy who had been his caretaker for the past week. When he couldn't spot Combeferre right away, he felt his stomach clench a little. _Where is he? _He had grown comfortable in the presence of the medical student and now that he was alone, he felt a sort of uneasiness come over him.

"Combeferre?", he called quietly. His voice – hoarse and too weak for his liking – was far from what it usually was, steady and clear. When he got no answer, the knot in his stomach tightened and felt his breathing accelerate. He swallowed nervously and called for Combeferre once more. Still no answer.

Enjolras bit the inside of his cheek anxiously and pushed himself from the bed. He managed to stay upright for a few seconds before his knees buckled and he nearly crashed to the floor. He was able to catch himself on the nightstand and tried to get himself together. _Don't be such a child. You're freaking out over nothing._

The blonde stubbornly forced his legs to move and stumbled towards the bathroom, hoping to find his friend in there. But the door was open and there was no one inside. Enjolras frowned and pulled a slightly trembling hand through his messy hair. "Combeferre?" he called again, a bit louder this time. Again he was met with silence and he clenched his hands into fists, forcing himself to stay calm.

Quietly he shuffled towards the sofa and sat down. The comfortable feeling he woke up with, had completely disappeared. He was cold again, the queasiness was coming back and his throat felt constricted. He hated to even think it, but he was a little scared. He didn't want to be alone.

He pulled his knees towards his chest and wrapped his arms around them, keeping his eyes on the door in the hope Combeferre would come back in soon. _You are unbelievable. You ran away from your father, your family to be free and independent_ _and here you are panicking over a guy you hardly know. Maybe father was right. Maybe you really are a useless weakling._

Enjolras closed his eyes and tried to block the voice out. It wasn't his fault, he couldn't help it that for the first time in his life, someone was actually nice to him. Someone had actually taken care of him. And he couldn't ignore the fact that it made him feel happy. He didn't want to lose that feeling now that he had tasted it even though he cursed himself for suddenly needing it. _Maybe it's the illness_.

The blonde laid his head on his knees and tried to make himself as small as possible to create a little warmth. The walk back towards the bed somehow seemed too far and Enjolras feared he wouldn't make it. Silently, he wished for Combeferre to come back. _He wouldn't just leave would he? Is he done with me? Maybe I've been too much of a burden_. He swallowed thickly and tightened the hold on his knees.

* * *

Combeferre found Enjolras like that when he returned to his apartment. When he had woken up earlier, he found the blonde still fast asleep and he decided to make a quick run to get some ingredients for something to eat. The kid had barely eaten anything in almost a week and he had to get some nutrition's in him to get his strength back.

He had hoped he would've made it back before Enjolras woke up, but unfortunately that hadn't been the case. The position the blonde had forced himself in, did not seem comfortable in the slightest. Combeferre put his purchases on the table and silently walked towards the boy. When he got closer he noticed the small tremors and the slightly feverish blush colouring his cheeks.

_Damnit_, he cursed inwardly. He should've known the kid was going to overdo it. He had been with him long enough now to know that being weak and incapable of doing much was not really acceptable to Enjolras.

He gently reached out and pressed his hand against Enjolras' forehead. The heat wasn't too bad luckily, but it shouldn't have been there at all. Enjolras blinked his eyes open and gazed up tiredly at Combeferre. When he realized the medical student was in fact back and in front of him, he felt his face crumple and before he knew what was happening, there were tears sliding down his face. _Am I crying? Why am I crying?_

Combeferre laughed softly and carefully pulled the boy towards him. He heard Enjolras mutter silent apologies and the confused look the blonde had given him when he started crying did something to Combeferre's heart. "Don't be sorry, it's just the illness. You're exhausted and drained and there's nothing wrong with getting emotional, Enjolras".

Combeferre kept a tight hold on the boy and Enjolras allowed himself to be held close, relishing in the knowledge that Combeferre hadn't left him but that he had come back. "I thought you were gone", the blonde admitted quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "I looked for you, but I couldn't find you." His face turned a deeper shade of red. _Had he actually just said that?_

Combeferre pulled Enjolras back and looked at him closely. Enjolras kept his eyes averted and fumbled nervously with the sleeve of his shirt. He looked up with teary eyes when Combeferre forced his head up. "I'm sorry. I had hoped you would stay asleep for the time that I was gone. I had only gone out to get us something to eat. And I came back as soon as possible." He motioned towards the table where his purchases were laid out.

Before Enjolras could show any sign of feeling even more embarrassed, Combeferre added. "It's okay, my little friend. I wouldn't leave you just like that. You should know that by now", he said reassuringly while gently pulling a hand through Enjolras' hair. Enjolras managed a small smile. "I'm sorry", he whispered.

Combeferre sighed. _Again with the apologies_. "Stop saying that. There's no need to be sorry, Enjolras. Now, how about we get you back in bed and comfortable and then I can make us something to eat?"

Enjolras made a face. He really wasn't hungry and the idea of food made his stomach turn. Combeferre noticed and he looked at the blonde sternly. "You're eating", he said matter of factly, "No getting out of it this time. You need to recuperate and you need food to do that." He then stood up, pulled Enjolras to his feet as well and helped him back towards the bed. He dropped the book of Rousseau on the blonde's lap and then made his way to the table to get the food ready.

Enjolras followed him closely as if to make sure he wasn't really leaving. _This isn't normal_, he thought. _I can't stay here forever. I can't get attached._ But he couldn't help it. He had already let the medical student too far in and he really didn't want to let him out of his life anymore. Carefully he opened the book on his lap and he pretended to read, but his mind was racing. _Where am I going to go when I have to leave? Will I see him again? When will he want me gone? _He suddenly feared being back out on the cold streets, away from the protectiveness and safety that was Combeferre.

He didn't want to leave. He didn't want to be on his own again. But he also didn't want to be a bother to Combeferre, not after all that he had done for him. _What am I thinking? I owe him already more than I can ever repay him and here you are freaking out over having to leave this place some time soon?_

When Combeferre returned with a bowl of broth for Enjolras and a platter of bread and fruit for himself, the blonde was close to tears again. "What's wrong? Are you hurt anywhere?", Combeferre asked Enjolras concerned. Enjolras smiled tightly and shook his head. He swallowed the knot in his throat and wiped the tears away. "It's nothing", he said and he tried to sound convincing, but judging by the look on Combeferre's face, he failed.

Combeferre decided not to comment on it right now, but instead focused on getting the blonde to actually eat his food instead of swirling the soup around in the bowl. He watched his progégé closely, and felt a strange warmth spread through his body when he thought about Enjolras' fear that Combeferre had left. And suddenly he realized he would've freaked out as well if it had been the other way around. He realized he didn't want the blonde to leave ever again. He wanted to protect him; to get to know him better; to take care of him. He didn't exactly know what kind of life Enjolras had had before he came to Paris, but he knew it was bad and he never wanted the boy to experience anything like that ever again.

_If I offered, would he want to stay?_

TBC.

(_There you go! Hope you enjoyed it, please let me know what you think? J Also know that ideas are always welcome. Till next time!)_


	7. Chapter 7

_(Hi everyone! This will be the last update on all of my stories for this week, because I'm going away today and I'll be gone for the whole weekend and a little longer. I want to thank all of you for reviewing, following or favoring this story. You guys are the best and it means a lot! :) I've tried to respond to each of your latest reviews, except for those of A, Jen and MerlinaDementiaSnow, who I like to thank in this author's note. Anyway, on to the next chapter, enjoy!)_

During the following days, Enjolras had slowly, but surely started to recuperate. The fever was now fully gone and he finally got some color back on his face. He still tired easily and the bruises and cuts on his upper body hadn't completely faded yet, but it was clear that the defiant blonde was on the mend. Much to Combeferre's relief.

They talked quite a lot during Enjolras' healing process. Often the blonde would ask Combeferre about his past; his upbringing; his parents; his friends; his ideals. The medical student could tell enthusiastically about that, since he had mostly happy memories about them, but he couldn't help but notice that with every happy childhood story, Enjolras seemed to sadden a little more.

Combeferre had tried to lure Enjolras out of his shell, but every time the conversation leaned only slightly towards Enjolras' past, he would quickly change the subject or simply refuse to answer Combeferre's questions. So instead, he decided on building the trust between them by asking him about his hopes and dreams for the future.

This was a subject Enjolras actually seemed quite keen on talking about. Although Combeferre noticed he didn't really talk about his own future or dreams, but more of the future he envisioned for France and in what way he could help in building that dream. He had a very strong opinion on the monarchy in France and the inequality of the people. He had even formed all kinds of ideas on how to better their lives and what sort of political system would be working best. _A definite Republican in the making_, Combeferre thought. And he felt a sudden fear that the boy would even be ready to give his life for 'a new tomorrow', as he called it.

Combeferre could not help but agree on the whole subject. He enlightened Enjolras with his own ideals and together they discussed dreams, visions and a better future. Combeferre had always felt a very strong urge to help people who needed help the most. Naturally, that was one of the reasons why he decided to study medicine. Enjolras had nodded at that.

"I've actually always wanted to study Law", he admitted silently, which was no surprise to Combeferre. He couldn't think of a more fitting study for Enjolras. "Although I don't really think that's going to happen now."

"Why not?" Combeferre was quick to ask that question, hoping it would offer a sort of opening for Enjolras to talk about his history. Enjolras however only smiled knowingly and shook his head. "I don't exactly have the money for it anymore. Those bridges have been burned the second I left for Paris." It was all he said on the subject, no matter how Combeferre tried to get more out of him.

Even though Combeferre wasn't yet able to get Enjolras to let him in on his past, he did learn much about the boy by just listening to him talk and observing his behavior. He already knew the blonde was a proud one; reluctant to ask for help or to appear weak in any way. He also learned that Enjolras could be so dedicated to something he cared for, he would completely discard anything else that might matter. He could read and write until he dropped from mere exhaustion and he did not care much for eating, which caused Combeferre to forcefully take away his book and notes in order for him to eat and rest. Lastly, he wasn't all that surprised when Enjolras shyly told him he was not actually 'nearly' fifteen, but closer to 'just fourteen'.

Combeferre was also quick to decide that Enjolras must have been the worst patient he'd ever had. The boy just did not know how to let someone take care of him. And the medical student didn't know if he should be frustrated or saddened by it. For the whole time he had been with Combeferre, Enjolras had been pushing his own limits. And it mostly drove the medical student mad, but every time he only leaned towards getting annoyed or angry, the blonde would apologize and do as he was told. Almost as if he was fearing Combeferre's reaction.

Since Enjolras was on the mend, Combeferre started to attend his classes again. He did not yet return to his work at the hospital, because he didn't want Enjolras to be on his own for too long. Every time he made his way home, he feared the boy would have left, but Enjolras was always gladly waiting for him at home with a new topic he had found in one of Combeferre's books and which he wanted to discuss.

Neither one of them raised the subject of how long Enjolras was going to stay with Combeferre. Both feared that when the question was raised, their time together was over. They had taken turns in sleeping in the bed or on the sofa, and sometimes – mostly when Enjolras woke up from his nightmares – they'd just shared the bed.

It was when Christmas was nearing that Combeferre decided to approach the subject. He had promised his parents he would come over for a few days and little more than a week ago, he had sent them a letter asking if it was okay if he brought someone with him. He had explained Enjolras' situation to them – how they met; that he'd been staying with him for nearly a week and a half now; his suspicions about Enjolras' past – and he had admitted his reluctance to leave the boy behind.

Today Combeferre received answer from his parents and he wasn't all that surprised when his mother told him Enjolras was more than welcome to join them. Smiling he walked over to the sofa, where the blonde was huddled up with a book and a blanket. His lunch of that afternoon still sat nearly untouched on the side table.

Combeferre sighed and took the book out of Enjolras' hands, replacing it with the plate. "For someone who so easily learns the hardest philosophies and political terms, you're really slow on this subject. Eat", he said sternly. Enjolras frowned and took a bite of the bread. "I'm not slow, I'm just not hungry", he responded with a hint of annoyance. "Got some good news?" Enjolras then asked, nodding at the letter in Combeferre's hands.

"It's from my parents", the medical student answered, clearing his throat. He was still figuring out how to approach this. "Christmas is coming up and they're expecting me to visit them for the holidays during my break. And since Christmas is only little more than a week away, and my parents live in near Avignon, I should be leaving in a few days."

He noticed how Enjolras had dropped the piece of bread in his hand and how he had gone slightly pale. But the boy was quick to get his emotions under control and he smiled tightly. "Say no more, I understand. I'll leave as soon as possible. I would have gone sooner if you'd let me, you know. I've been using your hospitality for far too long. I'm sorry." His was talking too fast and his voice wasn't nearly as steady as he would've wanted it to be. _Get yourself together. You knew this wouldn't last forever. Be grateful that he has taken you in this long already._

Combeferre was a little taken aback by Enjolras sudden reaction. The boy was already standing and about to collect the little stuff he actually had brought with him, before the medical student realized this conversation was going completely wrong. He grabbed Enjolras by the wrist and pulled him back down next to him on the sofa. "Be quiet will you, and let me finish. I wasn't nearly done talking"

Enjolras swallowed and whispered an apology, causing Combeferre to roll his eyes.

"You may think I actually believe that you've got things under control and that you're okay with leaving, but I know you like it here and I know you don't have anywhere to go. You don't talk to me about your past, but I know you can't go back to your parents' house, nor do you want to go back there. Now if you want to, you can come along with me to Avignon. My parents will be more than happy to receive you. And before you start telling me that you don't want to be a bother; that you owe me too much already; just don't, because I don't want to hear it. Contrary to what you think, I've actually really enjoyed you staying here and I don't want you to go. So you're going with me to my parents and when we get back, we're going to fit an extra bed in here. For you."

Combeferre was slightly out of breath, but he had said what he wanted to and he had offered Enjolras a place. It was out in the open now and the ball was in Enjolras' court, who was biting the inside of his cheek and trying really hard not to look at Combeferre. When he did, his eyes were shining with tears he refused to let fall.

"I can't pay you, I don't have money", he whispered so soft that Combeferre had to strain his ears to hear it.

"I've already told you that doesn't matter to me".

Enjolras looked away again. He frowned and seemed suddenly very interested in his fingernails. "It does to me", he mumbled after a moment of silence.

Combeferre nodded. He should've known Enjolras would probably see the whole thing as an attempt to offer charity. "Alright, if it matters to you that much, we can find you a way to gradually start paying me back. You can start with coming with me to my parents and after that we can try to find you a suitable job. I might know some people who'd like to employ a smart one like you. Even though you should know that I actually really don't want someone your age working a full time job, but if you insist, then I'll help you find something."

His heart melted at the way Enjolras' eyes lit up and the small smile that spread across his face. "Are you sure?" he asked quietly and Combeferre answered with as much persuasion as he could manage. The blonde then nodded timidly and held out his hand towards Combeferre. "Let's make it an official deal then", he said and they shook hands. Immediately thereafter, Enjolras leaned against the medical student and rested his blonde head on Combeferre's shoulders. A silent token of appreciation and gratitude.

Combeferre felt a warm feeling fill his heart. He was sure this had been the right thing to do and he swung an arm around Enjolras' shoulders, rubbing his forearm and momentarily pulling him close. "Alright then", he said after a few minutes and he let go of the blonde, "you are going to finish that and I am going to finish my essay. So don't disturb me. Roommate."

He stood and walked over to his desk, leaving a broadly grinning Enjolras on the sofa. Enjolras felt a blush spread across his face when Combeferre called him 'roommate'. This might just have been the happiest he had ever felt.

TBC.

_(Alright, there we go. So they're roommates now, isn't that sweet :) Next chapter will show Enjolras and Combeferre visiting Combeferre's parents. Also, Combeferre will learn more about our blonde's past, but that might take another chapter or so. Hope you liked this one, please let me know! Till next time!)_

__


	8. Chapter 8

_(Hi everyone! Thank you all once again for all the support I've gotten on this story. It means a lot to know that this is appreciated by you guys. I hope you enjoy this chapter and I promise we'll slowly get to know more and more about Enjolras' past. I'm planning to let you all know in the same pace as Combeferre. Enjoy this chapter!)_

In the course of the days before Combeferre would leave with Enjolras to Avignon, Enjolras grew more and more agitated. He was nervous, jumpy and restless and he slept even worse than normal, plagued by nightmares Combeferre could only guess at.

The medical student knew it had everything to do with the fact that they were going to see his parents; a subject Enjolras refused to talk about himself. The blonde had been asking him all kind of questions about them. What were they like? What were the rules? How should he behave? How should he look? Combeferre had tried to reassure Enjolras that he just had to be himself and his parents would like him, but the boy didn't seem to believe him.

"Do you think I should have had my hair cut? It's quite long; I don't want to anger them by looking like…like…well, like this…", Enjolras said softly, motioning to his whole person, "I don't have any suitable clothes to wear and what if they don't like what I have to say? I don't want to be any bother to them 'Ferre. Maybe I should just stay here."

Combeferre stared amazed at the blonde in front of him. "Will you stop?" he exclaimed amused, "I've told you everything will be fine. There my parents, I know them, they'll like you and you needn't worry this much." _There not like your parents_, he thought bitterly. "Now come on, we're going to be late and the carriage is already outside waiting."

Enjolras sighed deeply and reluctantly followed Combeferre out of the apartment. He wanted to believe Combeferre, but it was hard. He really wasn't looking forward to spend time with these strangers; he didn't trust strangers, not even if they were Combeferre's family. And he couldn't deny the fact that this whole 'visiting parents' thing, brought on memories he was trying so hard to forget. He wasn't sure he could handle this.

Enjolras knew Combeferre had his suspicions about his parents and how much he wanted Enjolras to confide in him. Part of him really wanted to, but part of him also feared what might happen if Combeferre learned the truth. _What if he'll send me away? What if he'll agree with Father?_ Combeferre could surmise all he wanted, Enjolras was sure the medical student would never guess half of what happened.

"Did you bring enough with you to do during our trip?" Combeferre asked the blonde when they got in the carriage, "I've told you the journey takes at least a few days." Enjolras nodded and showed him the books he brought.

Combeferre frowned. They were all Rousseau's and some of Voltaire. And Enjolras had already read every single one of them. When he asked the blonde why he didn't bring something new with him, Enjolras simply stated one could not read what Rousseau had to say enough. "He has so many brilliant ideas, one could hardly understand and analyze them all by only reading them once or twice. Maybe you should read them as well."

"I would if you'd give me the chance. Besides, I'm momentarily stuck with my anatomical books I'm afraid. Although I have to admit, there's nothing more fascinating than analyzing the way a finger works."

Enjolras smirked and opened his own books. "Would your parents approve these books? Because if they don't, I'll put them away as soon as we arrive." He didn't look up as he said this, already engrossed in the text.

"Well, approve is too big a word I think, but they wouldn't mind you – or me for that matter – reading them. I wouldn't call my parents royalists, but they're definitely no republicans either. I've often enlightened them with my ideals and they gladly listen to them, although they'd rather not see me pursuing such a dream world. They do like to discuss politics as long as it doesn't get too explicit."

"Good to know", Enjolras mumbled softly. "Then I'll try to contain myself." Combeferre let out an amused chuckle. "I have no doubt you'll do just fine. Your passion might even change their minds."

They spend the first few hours of their journey in silence, both completely content with reading in each other's company. Combeferre knew Enjolras wasn't looking forward to coming with him to Avignon. He'd learned the boy could be quite withdrawn at times and it wasn't hard to notice that Enjolras didn't trust people easily. He also was absolutely sure that this whole 'parents' ordeal' might be triggering some of Enjolras' darkest memories. He'd seen it in the way the boy had been acting the past few days: silent, restless and insecure. Also the dark circles under his eyes were signs that he was sleeping even worse than before.

And Combeferre had tried to reassure him. He was certain his parents would love Enjolras right away. He was polite and passionate; intelligent and kind. He was independent and precocious, but if you looked close enough you could still find childlike innocence in those curious blue eyes; searching for someone to guide him through life. Unfortunately, those same eyes were also a sign of a boy who had seen and lived through too much. Enjolras was humble, but proud and he could be very charming if he wanted to. There really was no reason whatsoever why his parents wouldn't like him.

He'd just wish Enjolras would trust him a little more. They'd spent two and a half weeks together; they'd talked a lot about practically anything and Combeferre was sure Enjolras felt safe with him. But he still wouldn't let him in. Not even a little. And Combeferre had tried to be okay with that. He had tried to give Enjolras his space and time, but he had to admit it grew more and more difficult to keep from pushing the blonde whenever he awoke from the umpteenth bad dream. Or whenever he was so lost in his memories that he completely blocked out everything and everyone around him.

_Maybe I should tell my mother my concerns and ask her how to approach this wisely_, the medical student thought as he glanced sideways to Enjolras, who was now slumped against him, sound asleep, with a book still clutched in his hands. _Maybe she has ideas that can enlighten me._

Combeferre sighed and looked out of the window. Then he closed his own book and took Enjolras' out of his hands carefully. He placed his feet on top of the bench opposite of the one they were sitting on and shifted a little, so that the blonde could lean against him more comfortably. Enjolras stirred, but did not wake. Combeferre closed his own eyes and drifted off a little, although he never fell asleep completely. For that he was mulling too much.

* * *

It took them four days to arrive at Avignon. Both men were pretty weary by then, for neither had been sleeping all that well, being in a carriage and all. The journey had been quite comfortable for the most part, although they did annoy each other every now and then and they couldn't help but bicker over some of the smallest things. Being so close to one another for days on end with nothing but each other for company, could be frustrating for even the most gentle person. The atmosphere never got too tense however and they never took their annoyances too far.

As soon as they got closer to Combeferre's parental home, Enjolras started to get nervous again. He was fumbling with his clothing; twitching his fingers; biting his cheeks and most of all, he suddenly grew really quiet and almost fearful. Combeferre didn't understand that something as simple as this, could bring on such a strong reaction in his small friend. When he lay a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder, he felt Enjolras flinch slightly and he frowned worriedly.

"Enjolras", he began softly, while pulling the boy's chin up to face him, "There is really, truly, no need for you to be this nervous. I promise you with all my heart everything is going to be okay. Really. You trust me right?" A small nod. "Then trust me when I tell you there is nothing to be afraid of. They are kind and friendly people and they don't expect you to be anything but yourself."

Enjolras turned his head away again and sniffed quietly. "But what do I say when they ask about my parents? I can't tell your parents about them 'Ferre…I can't even tell you about them. I'm the son of a wealthy man; who has the money to give me everything I want and I ran away, without a word; I just left. I left to live on the streets in Paris…Your parents must think I'm a disgrace; They'll see only that.. a disgusting excuse of a son."

Combeferre was momentarily lost for words. This was the most Enjolras had said about his parents in all the time they've been together now. His heart clenched tightly and he cleared his throat. "How can they think that Enjolras? You see things all the wrong way; people don't think like that. If you ran away from home; preferring to live on the streets rather than to live under your parents' roof, the only thing people will think is that you must have really good reason to. You haven't told me about your past, which I still think you should, but have I ever given you the feeling that you disgust me in any sort of way?"

"No", Enjolras whispered while looking intently at the hands in his lap.

"You'll do fine. And if they ask you something and you don't want to answer, then that is fine. They won't mind. It's is your right to tell as much or as little as you want."

"They won't force me to tell or..or d-do anything?" The words were spoken in such a soft and small voice, Combeferre might have missed them, but he didn't. He heard perfectly well and his expression grew dark. It took all his strength to refrain himself from demanding Enjolras to tell him what on earth happened to him. He inhaled deeply, placed both his hands on the blonde's shoulders and tried to keep his voice calm and steady.

"They won't. And if you feel uncomfortable in any way - any way at all - you tell me and we'll fix it. You can tell me everything Enjolras. Please, please just believe me when I say you'll be fine here. I swear."

Enjolras let out a relieved sigh and looked up smiling slightly at Combeferre, who ruffled the blonde's hair and added. "Don't worry. It's Christmas and they'll be in the best of spirits. They're the kind that will be singing Christmas Carols all day, so be prepared. And if you're impressed with my book collection, you'll be amazed by theirs."

Enjolras chuckled shyly and followed Combeferre out of the carriage. He felt a little better, but he still was very nervous. _Stop worrying so much. If Combeferre says it's going to be fine, then it's going to be fine. _When he looked up his eyes widened. The house they stood in front of was beautiful. It wasn't nearly as big as the one he grew up in, but all the more cozier. As if summoned straight from a fairy tale.

When the front door opened, the two boys were met with a slightly plump woman, who was smiling as bright as the sun. She embraced Combeferre heartily, kissing him on the cheek multiple times. "You are way too skinny my child. Come in, come in." Then her eyes fell on Enjolras, who was looking somewhat nervously back at her. "And you must be Enjolras", she said gently, "we're very glad to have you here my boy, come on in." She motioned for them both to enter the house. "Looks about high time you came 'Ferre, and it's a good thing you brought this skinny little one here. Don't they have food in Paris?"

Enjolras couldn't help but smile and looked up at his friend. He already felt stupid for not believing the medical student right away. Combeferre smiled back at him and gently pushed him forwards. "Told you", he said softly.

TBC.

_(There we go! Hope you liked this chapter :) Please let me know what you think and I'll try to update soon again! X)_


	9. Chapter 9

_(Hi everyone! First of all...my deadlines are over! So I have now more spare time and will probably be able to update faster. Second of all, I want you all to know how much I appreciate your continuous support. It really means a lot and it keeps me motivated and helps me to keep writing this story. So a big thank you and I hand out virtual sweets to all of you. Hope you'll enjoy this chapter!)_

Enjolras followed Combeferre and his mother inside the house. Though his nerves had started to settle down, he still felt a little anxious about meeting Combeferre's father. According to the medical student he was a calm and friendly man with his heart in the right place and Enjolras couldn't help but think that Combeferre must then really be more like his father than his mother, for his mother was actually quite the opposite. She was just anything but calm or quiet and liked to chatter cheerfully and loudly. In the few seconds that Enjolras met her, she had made him feel right at home.

"Hurry up my dears", she said happily, "you're just in time for dinner and me and Faya have been preparing something special all day. We've been practicing for the Christmas menu you see and we're trying out all these new things."

As Combeferre's mother kept babbling on, the medical student slowed his pace a little, turned to Enjolras and said: "Faya is our house maid and she and mother like to cook as you might have guessed. Though my parents can afford enough help, mother likes to do things herself. She's not really your typical bourgeois lady, so she always helps Faya where she can."

Enjolras smiled at that and he immediately appreciated Combeferre's mother even more. Before he could answer his friend, they were led through a wooden door into a large living room. Enjolras was astonished. Combeferre hadn't exaggerated when he told him about his parents' book collection. The room was full of bookcases. And together with the few red sofas and chairs; the fireplace and a large Persian carpet, the room gave Enjolras a homely and warm feeling.

Combeferre and his mother shared a look and smiled at Enjolras' surprised expression. "Combeferre told me you like to read so I guess this room will make you feel right at home. It's my husbands and 'Ferre's favourite room as well. I like it too, but I'd rather spend my time in the kitchen or the garden", she said friendly and she winked playfully at the young blonde.

Enjolras practically beamed and flashed a charming smile at Combeferre and his mother. "It's amazing, Madame. I've never seen so many books packed in one room in my life".

Combeferre chuckled. "He was already impressed by my own little collection at my apartment in Paris, so I knew I was right when I wrote to you that this would probably amaze him." The older boy kindly ruffled the younger boy's hair and smirked at him when the blonde shot him an annoyed look.

"I'm glad you like it, my dear. And please, none of those formalities in my house. You can call me Marie. Now we can't dawdle any longer, dinner will soon be served and your father is waiting and anxious to see you both."

The dining room was almost as impressive as the living room according to Enjolras. It wasn't too big, but it was fairly colourful, light and had a summery feeling to it. In the middle of the room was a large, dark brown table and at the head sat the man of the house; Combeferre's father.

As he walked towards the man to introduce himself, he unconsciously fiddled with his vest and tried to smooth out his clothing. He watched how Combeferre pressed his father the hand and how they shortly embraced each other. Then the father's eyes turned to Enjolras and he smiled politely. "And you must be my son's new friend. Welcome at our home, my boy. My name is Marcus de Gastoyette, but as Marie undoubtedly already told you, we don't care much for formalities, so call me Marcus if you will."

Enjolras smiled and shook Marcus' hand. "Bonsoir monsieur...Marcus...I feel honoured to be invited so warmly at your home. Please if there is anything I can do to show you my gratitude..." He swallowed the rest of his words, eyes widening ever so slightly as he alone realized what he was offering. Combeferre's father didn't seem to notice, but the medical student himself eyed Enjolras warily.

"The honour is all mine, my boy. You are a guest in this house and as such it is our job to make you feel at home. Just tell Marie you like her cooking once in a while and all will be well. Now, let's all take a seat and enjoy the meal Marie and Faya have prepared for us."

The evening meal consisted of a small appetizer, a delicious main course and a formidable dessert. Enjolras enjoyed all of it. He finished every plate and was especially impressed by the dessert. It was something he had never tasted before; made out of rice. When he asked Marie and Faya – who was seated at the table as well – about it they smiled and were more than happy to tell him how they made it. "I'm really glad you like that, my dear. It's actually what I like to call my Christmas specialty so I will serve it again in a few days. It's very simple really. We made it out of a special kind of rice and milk, sweetened with sugar and seasoned with cinnamon and cocoa powder."

"Surely not all that simply, Mada...Marie. Getting those oriental ingredients must not have been that easy?" Enjolras asked politely.

"I have connections, but those spices are indeed quite expensive. That's why I only allow myself to make this dish on special occasions."

"Well, I think it's wonderful!" Enjolras claimed happily, which caused Combeferre, who was sitting next to him, to snort loudly. Enjolras scowled at him and tried to kick him subtly under the table, already knowing where his friend was going with this. "Well, mother, if Enjolras here tells you he likes your food, then trust it to be formidable. He hardly ever finishes anything I make and yet tonight he has devoured everything placed in front of him."

"Maybe you just have not inherited your mother's cooking skills, son", Combeferre's father chuckled, while squeezing his wife's hand, "Now Enjolras, does your family have some sort of Christmas tradition? Maybe a favourite dish as well? Or a traditional story your father tells every year?"

Enjolras went silent and had gone slightly pale at the questions. Combeferre shot his father an annoyed look. He had told his parents in his last letter not to mention Enjolras' past if they could help it and Marcus seemed to regret his questions immediately as he bit his lip.

Enjolras looked down at his plate and let out a shaky breath. Just when Combeferre wanted to interrupt the silence and tell his young friend he did not have to answer if he didn't want to, Enjolras said softly: "No monsieur, we never celebrate Christmas. Not since I was five years old and I can't really remember the ones before that. So this will be my first in a very long time." He tried to smile, but his heart wasn't in it and dark images of the more recent Christmases clouded his vision.

It was Marie who spoke first and Combeferre was happy how his mother always seemed able to fix any sad or uncomfortable situation. She smiled warmly at Enjolras and said "Well, I guess we're going to have to make this one count then, won't we?"

Enjolras looked up at her and smiled back, nodding ever so slightly. As soon as the conversation travelled on to Marcus' physicians business, the blonde felt a light squeeze of his shoulder. He looked over at Combeferre who was looking at him concernedly. His eyes silently asked what his mouth did not. _Are you alright?_ Enjolras thought about that for a moment and then nodded earnestly. He _was _alright. And they enjoyed the rest of the evening.

By the time the clock stroke eleven, both Enjolras and Combeferre were exhausted. Being in a carriage for four and a half days with a minimum of sleep could do that to you and so, when Enjolras yawned for the sixth time in fifteen minutes and could hardly keep his eyes open, Combeferre excused himself and the blonde from the table.

Marie stood as well and gave both boys a good night hug. "We've placed a spare bed in Combeferre's room. I hope you'll be comfortable and we'll see you both in the morning at breakfast."

"Thank you again for the lovely meal, Marie" Enjolras offered, before he let himself be steered away by Combeferre. When they were out of sight and out of earshot, Combeferre said softly: "I'm sorry about my father. He can be quite ignorant sometimes."

Enjolras frowned. "Not at all 'Ferre. He was just asking a question, I should've kept my emotions under control. I was being very out of place, so I should be the one to make apologies."Combeferre let out a exaggerated sigh at that and the two of them kept bickering until they arrived at the medical student's bedroom. "Did you ask them to put a spare bed in your room?" Enjolras asked as soon as they entered.

Combeferre nodded and hoped the blonde wouldn't feel embarrassed about it. "I figured you'd be more comfortable when you were with me. I mean, you're not an easy sleeper in the slightest and nightmares wake you up more often than not, so I thought it would be the right thing to do..."  
He glanced at Enjolras who had already placed himself on the spare bed. When the blonde realized Combeferre was searching for confirmation, he smiled and nodded. "Thank you", he mumbled shyly, "I appreciate it 'Ferre."

When they were both changed and laid in their own beds, Combeferre dozed off almost instantly. Enjolras lay on his back and stared at the ceiling, while pondering over the evening; Combeferre's parents; his own parents... He turned to Combeferre and hesitantly opened his mouth: "Are you asleep?" The medical student grunted something and opened his eyes. At Enjolras' confused look he repeated "I was...what's the matter?"

The blonde sighed and resumed his staring. "Nothing really, I just wanted to tell you, you were right. People like to hear they're right.." Combeferre stared at his friend and blinked a few times in confusion and frustration. _Is he seriously waking me up to tell me this?_ He took a deep breath and rolled his eyes. "I know I'm right, I've always known I was right about this. You should've just believed me and spared yourself all the worrying and fear."

Enjolras didn't say anything for a while. Then he turned on his side again to look at the medical student. "I know...I'll try to do that more from now on", he mumbled seriously.

"Good", Combeferre answered and he couldn't hold back the small grin spreading across his face. "Then listen to me now: go to sleep and stop thinking. I swear you think too much for your own good sometimes."

The blonde laughed brightly at that and the sound made Combeferre's heart swell with warmth. "Alright...I'll go to sleep. Goodnight 'Ferre". The medical student closed his eyes and smiled. "Good night Enj" And just before sleep had once again claimed him, he heard a soft chuckle and then: "I don't think I like that nickname."

"Too bad, I'm going to call you that way anyway. Enj" And with that Combeferre fell asleep, no longer able to know if Enjolras made another comment, which he didn't. The blonde followed his friend into the world of dreams quite quickly, although where one's dreams were peaceful and happy, the other's were dark and frightening.

TBC.

_(Another chapter done! I hope you liked Combeferre's parents and this first little acquaintance. I promise that each chapter, we'll get to know a little more about Enjolras' past. This chapter hadn't such a big revelation, but I thought it was sad. Hope you liked this chapter and please let me know what you think or if you want to share your ideas! Till next time!)_


	10. Chapter 10

_(Hi guys! Thanks again so much for your support! I've tried to respond to all my reviewers of the last chapter, except to Jen, Chaudfontaine and annevalerie. A big thanks to you as well! Also I'd like to thank the followers and favorits. Means a lot to know this story is appreciated :) Enjoy this chapter!)_

_He had to keep running. That was all he knew. Keep running and don't look back. Don't pay attention to the snow covered trees; the carol singing crowds; the merry faces all around. Just keep on running._

_If he'd stop running they would catch him and if they'd catch him they'd hurt him. He didn't understand why they wanted him; he'd never done anything to them._

_He was panting now. Panting heavily and tears were running down his face. He was terrified. He heard them call his name; taunt him. He was getting tired, but he couldn't stop running. If he stopped, they'd catch him and that was not an option. He just needed to get home; get home as soon as possible. He'd be safe there; he'd be protected._

_But he wasn't fast enough. They were getting closer and closer and it wouldn't take them long to catch up on him. He was panicking. No, no, no keep on running; just keep running._

_"Hey, girly boy! Wait up! We only want to talk to you. You're something special, wait up"_

_"Yeah! We just want to touch your hair; it's all long and blonde and we can't help to be amazed by it. We've never seen a girly boy before!"_

_No, no, Enjolras, keep running. Don't let them catch you. Just keep running. But it was too late. One hand grabbed him by the shoulder, while another encircled his waist. He was pulled down on the snowy ground and pinned there by three larger boys. "Please don't hurt me"._

_"Hurt you? Why would we hurt you, such pretty girl", the biggest of the three boys teased, while he made a pouty face and batted his eyes at Enjolras._

_"I'm not a girl!", Enjolras snarled._

_"Oh, but you must be. Just look at you", the other whispered softly, while carding his hand through Enjolras' golden locks._

_"Get the hell away from him!" a voice from behind them yelled furiously and then a body collided hard against the boys pinning Enjolras down, successfully knocking them over. "Don't you dare touch him! Fight like a man and find someone your own size."_

_Enjolras watched in shock how his eight year older brother placed himself between the young blonde and the other boys. He watched how the other three attacked Henri and how Henri blocked almost every single punch. But then he saw the knife. And Enjolras could not help but shout his brother's name in warning, causing Henri to look back so that the largest of the boys could take him off guard._

_There was a sharp hiss and then Henri slipped to the side, holding onto the wound in his abdomen._

_The varmints ran afterwards; leaving younger and older brother alone. They were slowly surrounded by more people, who kept whispering softly. Enjolras could hear them think clearly though. Murderder. Murderer._

_Enjolras knew they were talking about him. This was his fault. He killed his own brother. He was a murderer. What would his father say? "Please Henri...Please, don't leave me? Please, I'm so sorry. Please, brother, please come back?"_

_Tears were streaming down his face; he was sobbing uncontrollably and clutched his brother's body desperately. "Henri, please come back, please?"_

* * *

Combeferre snapped awake when he heard the strangled cry and was by Enjolras' side immediately. The boy was twisting and turning in his bed; drenched in sweat. Pleads were falling from his mouth and he whispered the same name over and over again. _Henri_. Combeferre had coaxed the blonde through many nightmares, but never before had he heard that name.

He placed a gentle hand on the side of Enjolras' face and leaned in closely so he could whisper directly in the boy's ear. It was a tactic that proved to work and he had learned it early on during Enjorlas' fever dreams that first week they were together. back then he had first tried to shake the boy awake, to snap him out of his dreams, but that would only have to reversed results. The approach he took now would take a lot longer, but it always worked and it always calmed Enjolras down.

This time proved to be no different. Combeferre spent a good fifteen minutes whispering comforting words and carding his hand through Enjolras' sweat soaked hair. His other hand was curled tightly around that of the younger one.

"It's just a dream Enjolras. It's just a dream, you can wake up now. I'm right here with you. Just listen to my voice and focus on that. It's all going to be fine, mon ami, you'll see. Just wake up for me now."

Finally the blonde blinked open his bright blue eyes and when they focused on Combeferre, his whole face crumbled and he started sobbing mercilessly. He buried his face in the older boy's chest and shook violently.

Combeferre was momentarily shocked. Enjolras rarely was this outward with his emotions; he always tried to compose himself; to stay strong and proud. But now he completely fell apart and Combeferre realized he was just sitting there doing nothing. He quickly wrapped his arms around the small form and held the younger boy tightly.

It wasn't the first time he had had to console Enjolras after a nightmare, but this time it seemed different. Usually the boy woke in fear and panic and Combeferre had to assure him that he was safe and not alone. This time however, Enjolras' body was wracked by sobs of what seemed to be grief. Between his gasps for breath, he whispered broken apologies and he kept repeating that one name. _Henri_.

Combeferre tried his best to comfort Enjolras. He encouraged the boy to just let it all out and he held him close through it all. He whispered gentle words; rocked back and forth slowly and pressed a soft kiss on the blonde's temple. They stayed like that for a good twenty minutes until Enjolras had significantly calmed down. He was still breathing shakily and he leaned heavily against his older friends' chest. Combeferre kept his arms placed firmly around the blonde; not yet feeling like letting go. He rested his chin on the top of Enjolras' head and sighed deeply. He needed answers this time. Not another _I'm fine_ or a _I don't want to talk about it_.

So instead of asking Enjolras to tell him what he was dreaming about, he went for a more forward approach. "Who's Henri?", he whispered gently, while pulling back ever so slightly so he could look at the younger boy's face.

Enjolras immediately looked down and tried to pull away, but Combeferre wouldn't let him. Not this time. He brushed back the few blonde locks that had fallen forward and lifted the boy's head again. "Who's Henri, Enjolras?" he asked again.

This time Enjolras looked him in the eye and Combeferre could almost feel all the pain and sorrow shining in those piercing blues of the boy in front of him. He noticed how the blonde's lower lip started to quiver again and Enjolras bit down on it immediately. Then he took a deep breath and whispered quietly: "He was my brother".

Combeferre nodded and smiled sadly. "Older brother I assume?"

Enjolras ducked his head down in response, sniffed once and murmured that was indeed so. "Eight years older", he mumbled in such a low voice that Combeferre almost didn't hear him. "He was the star of the family...the first-born...everyone loved him, he was tough and proud and strong...he was going to be the heir of Father's heritage..."

Combeferre swallowed. In all the time they were together, Enjolras never mentioned a brother. But then again...he hardly mentioned any familymember, so this shouldn't come as such a surprise. Combeferre hesitated a little to ask his next question. Enjolras looked so lost and young at that point. Much younger than his fourteen years. He carefully took the clammy hand in his and squeezed it gently. "Did he pass away?"

Enjolras inhaled sharply and Combeferre noticed how he was fighting to hold his tears back. He also noticed how he failed miserably at that as they were once again leaking from his eyes. When the blonde nodded jerkily a few times, Combeferre pulled him back in and held him close for another few minutes. "I'm sorry", he whispered sadly.

But then suddenly Enjolras shook his head violently and shrugged Combeferre off. "It's all my fault he died", he cried brokenly, "They were out to get me, not him and then I called him and he turned around and they stabbed him! It's my fault. I might as well have killed him with my own hands! I'm a murderer! But I didn't know then...I'm so sorry 'Ferre, I didn't know, I was only five. Please don't hate me, I'm so sorry"

Enjolras was on the verge of a hysterical break down and it suddenly hurt him to breath. He started to shake again and he tried to get away from the medical student, who was now looking at him with such sadness and shock. It was almost unbearable to look at. _Now he hates me. He hates me as well and I'm alone again._

Before Enjolras could pull away fully, Combeferre tightened his hold on his forearm and Enjolras gasped at the sudden pain it caused. As soon as he stopped fighting though, Combeferre tugged him back and loosened his grip a little before grabbing the blonde by both his shoulders. "Stop it Enjolras and don't say that. You're not a murderer and I don't hate you; I could never!" The medical student breathed heavily and felt more than a little desperate. Enjolras told him too little to really come up with any arguments, but he had no doubt what had happened all those years ago was not Enjolras' fault. The kid was five years old for God's sake.

"Calm down alright, just calm down, for me?", he tried gently, searching those panicked and fearful eyes, "I don't hate you and I doubt I ever could Enjolras... And I highly doubt that you are to blame for whatever happened.. But you have to give me more than just those few statements, so come sit next to me here and talk to me slowly about this. I'm only interested in what you remember and what you have to say, not what others have told you."

Enjolras shook his head dejectedly, but did as he was told nonetheless. It was hard and painful to talk about the death of his brother and it went slow and in no way smoothly. Combeferre was there to coax him through it all the way. His heart ached for the boy as he told him what he remembered and he silently damned to hell all those who had put it in his head that he was to blame.

When Enjolras was finally finished, all the blood had drained from his face and he looked exhausted. He didn't dare to look Combeferre in the eye; he was so afraid of what he might see. "I'm really sorry, Combeferre, please don't send me away."

The older boy once again wrapped his arms around Enjolras and held him close. Then he spoke softly, but firmly in the blonde's ear. "I want you to listen very carefully to me now, Enjolras. What happened all those years ago, was an accident. You did nothing, and I repeat, _nothing_, wrong. Do you hear me? It's not your fault you were chased. And it was your brothers own choice, as heroic as it was, to jump in the fight. It's a tragic accident, but an _accident_ nonetheless, mon ami. That means there is no one to blame, except that filth that stabbed your brother."

Combeferre was silent for a moment, waiting for a response, but he got none, so he continued. "And how could I possibly be mad at you for this, or even _hate_ you. I could never, I swear, so don't apologize to me about this and don't be scared that I'm going to send you away, because I'm not. Not now, not ever. Am I making myself clear?"

He noticed how his shoulder was slowly but surely getting soaked with Enjolras' tears, but he smiled when he felt the boy nod slowly. He then rubbed his arm a few times across his back and said: "Good, I'm glad...Enjolras, I just have one more question for you though. You don't have to tell me about it, if you don't want to, just give me a yes or a no, alright?"

Another small nod.

"Did it all start with your brother's death?"

Enjolras hesitated. He was sure Combeferre already knew the answer, but still he wanted to hear it from him. He slowly pulled back and forced himself to look the medical student in the eye. A last lone tear slid down his face and he nodded weakly.

TBC.

_(Okaaay, first revelation of Enjolras' past. Hope you aren't disappointed...It's a sad story. In the upcoming chapters we'll slowly learn more about it all. I hope this chapter was worth it. Please review and let me know what you think? Till next time!)_


	11. Chapter 11

_(Hi guys! Thank you all so much again for the reviews and support of the last chapter. I'm so happy you enjoyed it. I'm trying to respond to each of you who review now, but if I've missed you, I'm sorry and I'll thank you now with all my heart! Hope you like this next chapter! Also, I've got a new cover pic, found it on the amazing tumblr of Hammy (hamstr dot tumblr) you should definitely check it out :) )_

After Combeferre had finally succeeded in getting Enjolras to open up a little, they both stayed silent for a while. Combeferre sat next to his young friend on the bed against the headboard and had one arm draped across his shoulders. Enjolras leaned against the medical student and relished in his protective touch while his thoughts ran back to that fateful Christmas day long ago and everything that happened after.

The room was still dark – the only light coming from the stars and moon through the windows – and it couldn't be later than three in the morning. Combeferre had lost any desire to go back to sleep, but he could sense Enjolras was exhausted, yet fighting to stay awake. The medical student would have none of it. Just as he wanted to tell the blonde that he needed to sleep, Enjolras spoke up; his voice cracked and weak from emotion.

"I want to apologize Combeferre", he began, shaking his head and looking up with pleading eyes when Combeferre was about to interrupt him, "I know I'm being difficult and don't tell me that I'm not. It's just...it's hard...I'm not used to...well, I'm not used to any of this to be honest and I'm sorry for acting the way that I do and for burdening you and your parents...I know I'm far from an open book, but I've never really been able to open up to anyone, so I don't know how to and I don't know what is and what is not appropriate to tell...So I guess, I just want to apologize, even though you don't think I should."

He could only imagine how frustrated it must be for Combeferre to know something was up, but not being able to help, because his stubborn self was afraid to confide in him. His heart had been beating hard and fast in his chest while he told Combeferre the story about his brother and though he was more grateful for Combeferre's love and understanding than he could ever show, he doubted if he could ever tell it again. He wondered if it had been an exception. The thought of telling his friend more about his past sent cold shivers down his spine.

He felt Combeferre sigh deeply but the bespectacled student did not speak right away. Instead he let his chin rest on Enjolras' head and closed his eyes for a moment. _What am I going to do with this boy?_ "You're right, I don't think you should apologize", he said silently, while rubbing Enjolras' upper arm reassuringly, "And I'm glad you already seem to know that...But, I think I do understand you Enjolras and I just want you to know..." He sighed again, thinking how he could bring this best. "All in your time, alright? You know you can tell me anything, you know I'll listen and you know I won't judge, but you only have to tell me things when you feel you're ready for it and otherwise tell me if you're not, so that I know. I don't want to push you into anything."

Enjolras nodded shyly and sank a little more closely into Combeferre's chest. He whispered a thanks and smiled a little at when the older boy told him he was welcome. "Just one more thing, Enjolras, and we've talked about it before. Don't call yourself a burden... I really hate it when you do that, it makes me feel as if I failed you somehow and to be frank, it's a bit insulting...My parents and I...we don't give you that feeling do we?" Enjolras shook his head, more than a little ashamed. "Then don't say things like that. You're not a burden."

They then fell into a more comfortable and teasing chatter; just to lift their spirits a little. It didn't take long for Enjolras' speech to become more incoherent and slow. The blonde was practically asleep, slumped against Combeferre and the latter had no intention to try and keep him awake, so he kept his own questions and answers just as slow – with long pauses between them – and he subtly grabbed the blanket that lay in a heap at the foot of Enjolras' bed to drape it over them both. It didn't take long before the blonde had completely succumbed to sleep again and as soon as Combeferre was sure Enjolras was fast asleep again, he manoeuvred the boy so that he was lying more comfortably; half atop the pillows and half atop Combeferre's chest. He then reached over and took hold of the book Enjolras had brought with him to the bedroom. To his surprise it wasn't a Rousseau or anything political, but a translation of Shakespeare's _Macbeth_. He managed ten pages before his eyes fell shut as well.

* * *

It was like this that Marie found the two boys in the morning. Her son still sitting mainly upright in the bed, head slumped towards his chest and book still in his hand; and Enjolras curled into a ball next to her son, his head buried in the pillows and one arm draped across Combeferre's waist. It made her smile.

As she pushed the door open further, Combeferre blinked his eyes open and rubbed the sleep out of them before smiling up at his mother. At her questioning look he mouthed _nightmare_ and she understood at once as she remembered the muffled cries in the middle of the night. Combeferre had told her about the terrors Enjolras went through at night and by the look of the boy's puffy eyes and still slightly red nose, she concluded this one must have been pretty bad.

She walked over to the bed and told Combeferre quietly that she and Faya had breakfast ready. When she looked at Enjolras worriedly she whispered sadly: "How bad was it? I thought I heard cries coming from this room last night.."

Combeferre nodded and looked down at the blond, who for all the world looked so innocent and young at that moment."It was pretty bad", he said quietly as he remembered the broken expression on Enjolras' face and the rueful sobs. "He was reliving a traumatic childhood memory...It's a really sad story, but uh...at least he talked to me about it, so that's something".

Marie nodded and gently squeezed her son's hand. "You're a great friend Combeferre, don't forget that." Combeferre only smiled. "Your father felt pretty guilty last night. He didn't mean to bring up his parents. But you know how he is.."

"I know", Combeferre said kindly. He wasn't angry with his father, not at all. Enjolras had been handling it well at the time, although Combeferre had no doubt last night's dream had everything to do with Marcus' mentioning of Enjolras' past Christmas experiences. "I'll wake him up, we'll be downstairs in fifteen minutes or so."

* * *

Breakfast was relatively quiet in comparison with diner the previous night. Enjolras was still tired and felt a more than a little shaken after all the emotions of the night. He was polite; he smiled to Combeferre's parents; answered questions and he thanked Faya for the food, but everyone seemed to notice he wasn't really himself that morning. His mind was somewhere else and only Combeferre knew where.

Marie tried to force both Enjolras and Combeferre to eat more, claiming she would have so many leftovers because they seemed determined to eat as little as a few slices of bread; some cheese and fruit. "Is that what they learn you Paris? Do you see how much of Faya's delicious food I have left now? You would both do better to fatten up a little..."

Enjolras had looked up confused. He had eaten more than enough and he really had no room left anymore. Then he noticed Combeferre and his father were smiling and he frowned. "Don't worry about Marie, my boy", Marcus said laughing heartily when his wife disappeared into the kitchen with Faya, "It is just some teasing. She always does this. Marie and Faya prepare too much food and then they claim we don't eat enough, while they actually do this on purpose, so they can go into town and hand out the food to those who have none. And it is always worst around Christmas."

And to prove his point, a few minutes later Marie and Faya returned with two baskets filled with mostly bread, but also some cheese and what Enjolras thought were pastries. Before Combeferre's mother could announce she would be going into town, Combeferre rose and said smiling. "Maman, how about Enjolras and I go into town today. I'm sure you have enough to do with the holidays coming up and I'd like to show my friend the town I grew up in."

Marie seemed to be doubtful at first, but then she agreed. She could imagine that Combeferre wanted to take Enjolras out for some fresh air; spend some time together. "Be careful though boys, some parts of town can be rough at times like these. Best bring it right to church alright?" After they had made their promises and were dressed warmly, they went out and walked the short distance towards the town.

* * *

The outside walk seemed to do wonders to Enjolras' mood and the fact that they were about to hand out food to the poor made the blonde feel even better. He talked more; he smiled more and that haunted look that had been in his eyes ever since the nightmare, finally started to fade away.

"I think it's really amazing your parents do this 'Ferre", he said happily as he timidly pressed a baguette in the hands of a boy his age. It always made him so sad and the feeling to finally be able to do something for the less fortunate got him more determined to make this his life goal. "How long have they been doing this?"

Combeferre smiled. "For as long as I can remember actually", he said proudly. "They usually bring it all straight towards the church, so the people can ask for it there and everything will be handed out equally. Mother always wants me to do the same, and I do, but I first go through these few streets, because there are a lot of children here who can use a little extra."

Everything seemed to be going well, but when they set out to drop the remainder of the food off at church, two men and one woman blocked their way. They looked mean and dirty and Combeferre held Enjolras back when he tried to walk past them.

"Better give us something first boy", one of the men growled. "We have not eaten in days and we're starving."

Combeferre eyed the three warily. They didn't look like they were starving. "I'm bringing this towards the bishop; everyone can collect some food there, so you'll have to wait for a little more I'm afraid."

The largest of the two men grinned a filthy grin and chuckled darkly. "I don't think you heard me correctly there rich boy. I said you'd better give us some. Now." He clenched his hands into fists and eyed both Combeferre and Enjolras contemptuously.

"And I said no", Combeferre said without showing any sign of fear or anger. He did however step forward ever so slowly, so he was standing partly in front of Enjolras; shielding him away from any immediate danger. Enjolras however, would have none of that and stepped forward defiantly. "You heard him, get out of our way."

Though they did see the anger flashing in Enjolras' eyes, the men and woman looked at each other incredulously and then burst into laughter. "And what is a kid like you going to do about it?", asked the woman, while the two men stepped closer. One of them grabbed Combeferre by the arm and forced him to let go of the basket. The other encircled Enjolras and smirked viciously.

Enjolras smirked back and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a knife and before any of them knew what happened he had cut through one of the men's jackets; but he did not hit the skin. "You guess", he said, "Let him go and get out of our way." He ignored Combeferre's warning glare and the calling of his name.

Though the three seemed quite impressed by Enjolras' fast movement, the boy was in no way strong enough to fight them all off and Combeferre was still held back. Luckily for him, all they seemed to be after was the bread and they had no intention of hurting them physically more than necessary. It took a few attempts, but then the man and woman were able to wring the knife out of Enjolras' hold. He received two blows to the head in the process, but refused to make a sound.

It was Combeferre who yelled at them and cursed them and promised to hurt them if they didn't back off. And they did; as soon as they had both baskets. "Make wiser decisions next time, rich boy. Safe yourself the trouble." One of them called as they turned the corner.

Combeferre did not even hear them. "What on earth were you thinking, Enjolras!", he said angrily. "And where did you get the knife? Why do you have a knife on you in the first place?" He breathed heavily as he turned the boy around and eyed the bleeding slash above his eyebrow. "Damnit", he cursed silently as took off his shawl and pressed it against the wound.

All anger had disappeared from Enjolras' face as soon as the thugs left and he winced at Combeferre's angry voice. He felt tears of shame and disappointment well in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. "I won't make the same mistake again...I won't, not ever", he whispered brokenly and he looked Combeferre in the eyes; pleading for him to understand.

And he did. Of course Combeferre understood, but that did nothing to slow his far too rapid pulse. He shook his head and pulled Enjolras into his arms. He cursed again inwardly. _Damnit_.

TBC.

_(Poor Enjolras...So yeah, hope this chapter lived up to your expectations and that it wasn't dull or anything. If you liked it, please review :) I'd love to hear what you think or if you have any ideas for this story you'd like to share. Till next time!)_


	12. Chapter 12

_(Yaay, another chapter done! Thank you all so much for the support. It means so much to me, I'll just keep saying it. You guys are the best and you are the reason that this story keeps going strong. Thanks so much! Hope you'll enjoy this next chapter, please let me know if you do? Enjoy!)_

"Keep pressure on that", Combeferre said curtly as he took Enjolras' hand and pressed it against the scarf covering the cut on his head. He did not even try to hide his annoyance. When he saw Enjolras pull out the knife, he had been so scared. There were three of them; three against one; what was he thinking? Well, clearly he wasn't.

Combeferre was not only frustrated with Enjolras but with himself as well. It had been his choice to take this route; he had defied his mother, who had wanted him to bring the bread straight to church and now Enjolras had gotten himself hurt because of his own disobedience.

"Let's get home, where it's warm…I'll check out that cut when we get there", Combeferre sighed as he softly pushed the younger boy in front of him.

Enjolras didn't say anything during their walk home. He was confused; what had he done wrong? Why was Combeferre angry with him? He'd only tried to protect him. He sneaked a glance at the medical student and frowned sadly at the scowl he saw there. He looked away quickly again and stumbled onwards while he kept Combeferre's scarf pressed against his eyebrow.

It hurt a little, but Combeferre's silence hurt him more. He had told him everything about Henri; surely he should understand that Enjolras could never make such a mistake again? He had finally found someone who cared for him and he didn't want to lose that ever again. Certainly not if he could help it.

He swallowed nervously and shivered as he thought back at the angry snarl Combeferre had given him earlier. He was really angry, Enjolras could tell. He saw it in the way his eyebrows lowered; in the way his jaw tightened and in the way his shoulders tensed. _Just like father._ That thought scared him a little. _No not like father, nothing like father. Combeferre was nowhere near similar to his father_. And yet, those angry words did leave the younger boy a tad frightened.

Combeferre noticed how Enjolras grew intensely quiet and how he seemed to completely turn in on himself again. _That's_ _my fault. I shouldn't have yelled at him._ He didn't miss the not-so-subtle glance the blonde threw at him either and the fear he saw in those eyes caused his heart to skip a beat and his anger ebbed away instantly. _Damnit_. The last thing he wanted was for Enjolras to be afraid of him. That just wouldn't do.

He gently placed a hand on Enjolras' shoulder to stop him and turned him around so they were face to face. Enjolras tried to look anywhere but directly at Combeferre and he nervously wobbled on his feet. Combeferre sighed and lifted Enjolras head up. "Look at me", he said kindly.

Enjolras did so, albeit reluctantly. Combeferre didn't seem angry any more, but that didn't really help to calm his nerves. The following words however, did.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you"

At hearing that Enjolras looked away again, no longer able to look Combeferre in the eyes.

"I just…you scared me Enjolras…They were at least two heads bigger than you and there were three of them…"

"I just wanted to fight back…I can't make the same mistake again Combeferre", Enjolras whispered dejectedly. "I was afraid they'd hurt you and I can't let that happen, I don't want that to happen…ever."

"I understand that, Enjolras, I do, but you weren't thinking straight. What you did was a rash decision and you brought yourself in danger and how do you think that makes me feel? I would've never forgiven myself if anything happened to you. Believe it or not, but your life actually means something to me."

Enjolras only nodded, but didn't say anything. He felt all kinds of emotions flow through him and he wasn't sure on which he should act. So he thought it best to just stay silent and let Combeferre continue. The next question however, startled him a little.

"How long have you been walking around with a knife in your pocket?"

Combeferre watched Enjolras closely. He noticed the slight frown, the nervous swallowing and he was sure there was some sort of inward battle going on inside the blonde's head. When he squeezed Enjolras' shoulder gently, the boy answered quietly: "Since a few weeks before I came to Paris… I feel safer this way, 'Ferre…"

Combeferre sighed. He wondered why he was even surprised. The poor kid had probably enough reason to feel like he needed some kind of weapon on him at all times. Instead of continuing on the subject, he gently reached out and took away the scarf. He winced in sympathy as he eyed the still bleeding cut; it looked painful and it might even need a few stitches. "Does it hurt?"

Enjolras shrugged indifferently but cringed a little when Combeferre traced his finger over the wound. He smiled faintly and said softly: "Guess that's my answer". He gently pressed the scarf back and this time held on to it himself as he placed Enjolras slightly in front of him and draped his other arm around his shoulders. "Come on, we're nearly there."

The blonde let himself be pushed forward. He thought they were okay, but he wanted to know for sure. "You're not upset with me anymore?", he asked silently. _Why do I have to sound like that? You're not a child. _

Combeferre chuckled lightly. "No, I'm not", he said kindly and he felt all the tension flow from Enjolras' shoulders. He kicked himself mentally for being the cause of that tension in the first place and he swore he'd think twice the next time before losing his cool again in front of his friend.

* * *

When they arrived back home, Marie was all over them at once – she pulled a surprised Enjolras in to a tight hug before eyeing the cut above his brow carefully – and she demanded to know what on earth had happened.

"Just robbers, mother…they took the bread from us", Combeferre said as he pushed Enjolras in a chair.

"Did they do this to him? Are you hurt somewhere as well?" She asked worriedly, while stroking Enjolras' curls out of his face. "Did you go straight to church? Because it is usually a safe road."

Combeferre sighed and grabbed the few medical supplies they had from the cabinet in the kitchen. "Mom, please...No, I'm not hurt and no we didn't go straight to church. I wanted to hand out some of the bread to the children first…we were on our way to the church when this happened though." He ignored his mother's indignant huff and carefully wiped some of the dirt away from Enjolras' wound with a wet cloth. "Could you please be a dear and get my bag from my room? I've got some more supplies in there and I think I need them."

Marie left the two boys, while silently cursing her son's stubbornness. If she'd only knew how much worse the younger one could be in that area.

"Why didn't you tell her about the knife?" Enjolras asked silently, looking at his hands in his lap.

"I don't see a reason for that…unless you want me to? I've got to warn you though; she'll be a lot less understanding than I was. And she worries even more easily than I do, which is quite impressive. You won't be able to leave the house again without her doing a full check on you next time", he winked jokingly.

"Don't tell her then…", Enjolras whispered and he smiled faintly back at Combeferre.

"That's what I thought", the medical student answered, "Do you have a headache? Any dizziness or nausea?" he asked when his mother came back in to the kitchen, while dragging Combeferre's bag behind her.

Enjolras shook his head determinedly. "Just a little headache, but it's fine", he said quietly as he warily eyed the needle and thread Combeferre pulled out, "Is that really necessary?"

"I'm afraid so, it's still bleeding…", Combeferre answered and he looked at his mother, silently asking her to take Enjolras' hand in her own, "And it's not going to be pleasant, although you only need a few stitches, so we'll be done soon enough." He gave his friend a small cup with liquid that Enjolras immediately recognized as Laudanum and he reluctantly took it.

The procedure didn't go as smooth and quick as Combeferre had hoped and Enjolras couldn't hold back the small whimpers that tried to escape his mouth. Marie held onto Enjolras' hand tightly and tried to comfort him all way through it for which both Combeferre and Enjolras were thankful.

When Combeferre was finally finished, he helped his young friend up and guided him towards the sofa in the living room. "Lay down for a while, alright? Try to get some sleep, you'll feel better after you've rested a little", Combeferre told the blonde and at seeing the questioning look the younger one gave him, he added: "I'll stay here and catch up on my readings." And for once, Enjolras just did what he was told without any protest.

* * *

The rest of the day passed uneventful. Enjolras slept a good three hours on end and indeed felt a little better when he woke up, although he still had a quite persistent headache that had him frowning and sighing more often than he'd liked. Combeferre had kept true to his word and was still in the same position in the chair opposite of the sofa Enjolras had been sleeping on.

He had checked the wound and after he had made sure Enjolras was indeed feeling quite well considering, the two of them fell into a comfortable chatter, soon joined by Marcus.

"So, Combeferre, your mother tells me you've been disobedient again and asked me to have a word with you", he said amused. Combeferre made a face and told his father he'd only made a slight detour before heading towards the church. He tried to make his father see that they would've come across the thugs anyway.

"I see, well, she also seems to think you are responsible for that gash on your friend's face and she doesn't want you to endanger him again. So no detours anymore." Something in Marcus' expression told Enjolras that he knew quite well that what happened wasn't Combeferre's responsibility and he was about to say just that, but Combeferre beat him to it.

"She's right and I'm sorry for that, but luckily it wasn't too bad and I'll be more careful next time. On an offside note, Enjolras here can take care of himself perfectly well." He smiled at his blonde friend and ruffled his hair playfully. And though Enjolras didn't really like how Combeferre took the fall for him, he did appreciate it and he returned the smile.

"I have no doubt he can", Marcus answered and he looked at Enjolras thoughtfully. "I'm sure he has had to for quite some time." His eyes met those of the blonde and Enjolras could almost feel a strange sort of respect pouring from that stare. He swallowed uncomfortably and looked away. He wasn't used to it and it made him nervous.

Combeferre didn't even notice the small moment his father and Enjolras shared and just kept on complaining about how his mother was always worrying too much and that she had to learn to let things go, because everything had _turned out fine_. The medical student had no idea how similar he and his mother were in some respects.

* * *

Around four that afternoon, Marie and Faya had prepared a cake that would go perfectly with some tea or coffee – as they themselves said proudly – and all five of them were seated at the little table in the living room. Combeferre offered Enjolras to just stay on the sofa and have his piece of pie there so he could rest his head some more, but the blonde insisted on joining the rest of the family at the table.

Everything was going perfectly well; Enjolras felt fine enough and Combeferre was finally able to relax a little after that eventful morning in town. Even Combeferre's mother seemed prepared to just drop the church issue for now and enjoy her afternoon tea; while asking Enjolras all sorts of questions about what he'd like to be when he was old enough to study.

Enjolras of course answered as politely and truthfully as possible. He didn't care to mention the fact that he did not have any money to attend university though, since he didn't receive anything from his parents anymore. He just told Marie about his dreams and wishes and ignored that unhappy feeling in his stomach that these were dreams he most likely would never be able to pursue.

It wasn't until Faya announced she had received the evening newspaper to which Combeferre's family had subscribed that things took a turn for the worse. Enjolras had been able to forget the small conflict he had had with Combeferre that afternoon and he felt happy and joyous despite the headache throbbing somewhere behind his eyes.

He was in the middle of telling Marie about his favorite books when Marcus called his wife's name and asked for silence. "They have found the Sourcey boy, Marie!", he exclaimed surprised. And at Marie's questioning and Combeferre's confused look, he continued: "He has been missing for more than three weeks now. Apparently they found him a few towns over. Says here that after they'd kidnapped him, he had been sold to other families to care for them in any way they pleased…

Marcus continued to read the article out loud and everyone continued to listen intently. Everyone except Enjolras, who had gone terrifyingly pale and whose eyes had gone so wide, they might pop out of their sockets. He started trembling so badly as he listened to Combeferre's father, that he had no control over the fork placed in his hand. He dropped it, but in his haste to catch it, he knocked over his cup of tea as well, causing everyone at the table to look at him concernedly.

He hadn't heard correctly. He couldn't. But with every word Marcus read, Enjolras was thrown back into the pit of some of his darkest memories he had tried so hard to keep hidden. His breathing became labored and he knew he had to be on the verge of some sort of panic attack. Feeling extremely uncomfortable and downright scared, he stood up and excused himself from the table. He didn't wait for a response. All he knew was that he had to get out of that room. He had to get away. As soon as possible. He wasn't even aware of the tears that streamed down his face as he ran towards his and Combeferre's bedroom and locked the door behind him.

Once inside, he collapsed on the bed and curled into a small ball; trying his hardest to hide away from that dark past he didn't seem able to escape.

TBC.

_(Okaaay, I've been writing this chapter in the middle of the night, so I hope it makes sense and that it is still worth reading. If you've enjoyed it, please let me know in a review? Means so much to me! Thanks and until next time! :)_


	13. Chapter 13

_(Hi everyone! Thank you all again for the lovely support this story has gotten. It means so much to me :) And I'm so happy you're sticking with this, I really appreciate it. Here's the next chapter! Hope you'll like it.)_

Combeferre sat at the table with a shocked expression on his face. He looked at his mother and father who both stared back at him, mouth agape. _What happened?_ One moment they were all having a nice conversation, enjoying their tea and cake and the next, Enjolras looked like he had seen a ghost; his face drained of all color.

"Something I said?" Marcus asked surprised. The newspaper was now loosely folded in his hands. Marie shrugged her shoulders; she didn't know either. And by the looks of Combeferre's own flabbergasted expression, neither did their son.

Combeferre frowned and hold out his hand. "Can I see that article, father?", he asked. Every fiber of his being yelled at him to go after the blond; to check if he was alright, but something held him back. He scanned the article; but he didn't see anything that could have understandably upset Enjolras. _It must be something past-related then, _Combeferre thought bitterly.

"Maybe he just needed to get some air? Or some privacy? He did just receive a knock on the head…", Marie said worriedly, although she didn't seem to believe he own words.

Combeferre looked up at her and shook his head slowly. Then he realized he was still sitting in his spot and he bolted upright. "I'll check up on him; see if he's alright. Excuse me, mother, father", he said anxiously and when both his parents nodded their consent immediately, he flew out of the room; up the stairs and after Enjolras.

* * *

Enjolras lay on his bed, trembling and eyes squeezed shut. _Block it out, just block it out. You're not there anymore. You're safe._ But no matter what he told himself, his mind kept flashing back and he was forced to relive those painful moments.

_"Don't you dare question my reasoning, boy. I tolerate you in my house even after all the evil you've caused. What do you think your brother would say? It's your fault he's dead! You deserve punishment and you'd better be glad it's me who's punishing you instead of the police!"_

His father's voice echoed through his head and he tried his hardest to ignore it. It wasn't true. None of what his father had said was true; he started to realize that now. Somewhere he'd always known it, but with his brother's death on his conscious, he'd just accepted whatever they did to him. He deserved it. _Didn't I deserve it?_

_"He had been sold to other families to care for them in any way they pleased"_. Enjolras bit back a sob as he recalled Marcus' words. How close they had hit to home.

"_You are to do as I tell you to! You will go there and you'll be obedient. This is not up for discussion. If you loved your brother and if you're truly sorry for what you did, you'd know you deserve this and you'd better go without protest."_

He shivered at the memory. He was only nine years of age when his father wanted to send him away for the first time to his bourgeois friends to be their obedient servant. To do whatever they told him to do.

Enjolras had been living under his father's wrath for four years then. He'd taken all the insults, the hatred, the beatings and the disgust and it was hard, and more often than not, he didn't understand why this was all happening to him. But never in his life had he expected his father to 'sell' him. It was beyond humiliating and Enjolras had fought his father tooth and nail. But he didn't change his mind, and Enjolras was sent off. Sometimes for a day; sometimes for a weekend; and sometimes for a week or longer. And every time he went, it got worse.

He remembered begging his mother to see reason, to help him, to talk to father; but she'd only looked away. His mother had never gotten over her oldest son's death. She was living a ghost life; she was there, but not really there at the same time. His father never got over Henri's death either, but he dealt quite differently with his grief. He took it all out on his youngest son. And Enjolras, being young and insecure, believed all the guilt that was put upon him and accepted every form of abuse silently.

Being 'sold' as some sort of slave however, had been a step too far for Enjolras and he had protested. He wanted to save that last bit of dignity he still had left, but no matter what he did or said or offered, there was no changing his father's mind. And so he went; to different houses; different families; different lives.

Sometimes, his time away from his parent's house wasn't even that bad. Sometimes, it was better. There were a few families who actually took care of him, even though he had to do chores in the house that no other bourgeois boy ever had to do. Most families he went to, however…Enjolras shuddered at the thought of them.

* * *

He was suddenly startled out of his trip down memory lane by a loud knocking on the door. Enjolras just stared at it. He didn't get up. What was he going to say now? There would be questions and he couldn't answer them. He didn't want to answer them. Never did he want Combeferre, or anyone, to know about this.

"Enjolras, please, please open the door for me? I just want to know if you're okay…"

The blond didn't move, but fisted the sheets beneath him tighter.

"Please open the door? You don't even have to talk to me if you don't want to…I just want to….I just…Just please open the door, Enjolras?"

Enjolras cringed at the fear and worry in Combeferre's voice. It was directed at him and he didn't want that. He didn't deserve that. He squeezed his eyes shut, burried his head in the pillow and tried to block the medical student out.

"Please, Enj…"

The use of his newly created nickname finally forced the young blond to move. Slowly he walked over to the door and he unlocked it. Before he had even time to turn around again, the door was pushed open and revealed a very anxious looking Combeferre. The medical student stepped inside and silently followed Enjolras, who was already walking back towards his bed and collapsed on it; turning on his side so he was facing away from Combeferre.

Combeferre sat down on the bed as well and placed one hand on Enjolras' shoulder. Neither of them said anything for a while, but Combeferre could tell by the tension in the younger boy's body and the way he took deep breaths now and then that Enjolras was on the verge of either speaking or falling apart.

It turned out to be both.

"I'm sorry I left the table so suddenly", he whispered in a small voice. And then he added: "And for locking the door of your room. It was rude and uncalled for, I'm sorry…"

Combeferre said nothing. He just looked at the small figure with a sad expression on his face. _What is going on with you, little one?_ Instead of speaking, he just squeezed the shoulder his hand was placed on and he scooted over a bit closer.

"I'll make my apologies to your parents later, I promise", Enjolras murmured into the pillow clutched in his arms, "You don't have to worry 'Ferre…I'm fine, really…just tired and a little headache…"

Combeferre only hummed in response and moved his hand from Enjolras' shoulder to his head. The moment he started to gently card his fingers through the younger boys hair, was the moment Enjolras' shoulders started shaking and quiet sobs escaped his throat.

He turned his head further into the pillow to try and muffle the wretched sounds but it was no use. Now that he had let them out and with Combeferre's soothing hand stroking his hair, there was just no way for Enjolras to stop. He hugged the pillow tighter and refused to turn around and face the medical student, but the sobs only grew harsher.

Combeferre looked down sadly at Enjolras and frowned worriedly. They were doing so well; Enjolras had seemed relatively happy in the three weeks they'd now been together, but ever since they arrived at Combeferre's parents, things had gone downhill. And Combeferre began to wonder if it had been the right thing to bring his friend here. Even though his parents and Enjolras got along really well, the whole family-thing just seemed to bring out the boy's worst memories.

He decided to give Enjolras a little moment to try and get himself together, but when the crying got worse, Combeferre determinedly pulled the blond up and wrapped his arms around him. Enjolras tried to squirm away at first – all he seemed to do lately was crying on Combeferre's shoulder and it was downright humiliating – but when his friend's arms around him only tightened, he gave up the fight and just let it all go.

Combeferre just held Enjolras close until he had significantly calmed down and the sobs had reduced to small sniffs every now and then. He'd kept quiet the whole time; thinking it best to not say anything for a while and give Enjolras the time to get himself under control. He also wasn't sure if Enjolras wanted to talk in the first place and so he decided to approach the subject carefully. Without loosening his hold, he mumbled in the blonds' hair: "Do you want to talk about it?"

Enjolras immediately shook his head and whispered he was fine.

The older boy had difficulty to believe that and he could only just suppress a snort. "Are you sure? You know you can talk to me right? We've been over that…"

Again a shake of the head. "I don't want to talk about it", Enjolras spoke more resolutely this time and he pulled away from Combeferre.

"It might help, you know", Combeferre said kindly, searching Enjolras' face, "it's not always good to keep everything bottled up and I really want to help you any way I can, if you'd let me…Please, Enj?" He hesitated for a moment before adding: "Does it have something to do with that article my father read out?"

Enjolras completely turned away from Combeferre then with a hurt expression on his face. He lay back down on his side again, successfully blocking the medical student out. "You promised you wouldn't press me into talking", he whispered sadly, "You said all in my time…I don't want to talk about it…"

"And I'm keeping that promise, Enjolras, of course you don't have to talk if you don't want to…I just…I just think it might help you, that's all. And I want you to know that you cán talk to me, should you want to…", Combeferre mumbled, feeling a little guilty. He'd never wanted to push his friend and he suddenly felt stupid for the way he had pressed the matter. It just was such a torment to see Enjolras hurting and not being able to do anything about it.

"Well, I don't want to. I'm okay now"

Combeferre sighed and gave in, but not before saying one final thing about the matter. "You're not okay Enjolras. You can't cry until your eyes are red rimmed and then claim to be okay. It doesn't work like that…, but if you don't want to talk, then that's your right and I won't push you…"

Enjolras said nothing, just shrugged his shoulders indifferently.

They sat another few moments in silence, but it suddenly felt awkward and there was too much tension in the air. It was Enjolras who spoke up first and Combeferre didn't know if he should feel good or bad about what he was telling him.

"Would you mind giving me some time to myself 'Ferre? You can just go down and join your parents, I'll be back down in a bit, I promise…"

Combeferre frowned and stared at Enjolras' back with a feeling of uneasiness. He didn't really know if leaving the blond alone now would be the best thing to do, but he also knew Enjolras was fond of his independence and he didn't like to be babied. He took a deep breath and squeezed the blonds' shoulder once again. "Are you sure?"

Enjolras nodded. "I'm sure…could you please tell your parents I wasn't feeling well…that I had to lie down for a minute…or something like that…I don't want them to worry." He fumbled with the sheets of his bed and took hold of the pillow again.

"Of course Enj", Combeferre whispered dejectedly and he stood from the bed, "I'll tell them you'll be back down before dinner, is that alright?"

The blond nodded again and turned further away as Combeferre walked to the door and closed it softly behind him. He sighed deeply once and made his way downstairs, to his mother. He had tried to handle things alone, but he suddenly very much longed for some motherly advice.

TBC.

_(Sooo, I'm really curious what you thought of this chapter, because I'm really, really not sure about it. I feels to me like it didn't make much sense, but I'll leave that to you. Hope you've enjoyed it, please let me know what you think in a review? Till next time!)_


	14. Chapter 14

_(Hi everyone! Thanks again for being so amazing; means so, so much to me to know that you are liking this story. Here's another chapter. It's not all that eventful, but I hope you'll like it nonetheless. It focusses a bit more on Combeferre's doubts if he's able to help Enjolras. Enjoy!)_

Combeferre walked down the stairs slowly, feeling somewhat defeated and desperate. He wanted to help Enjolras more than anything; wanted to be there for him; he wanted Enjolras to trust him.

And he knew he was making progress; Enjolras was a lot different towards him now than he had been a few weeks ago. Enjolras obviously felt confident enough to seek comfort with him; had even told him about his late brother, but every time the conversation leaned only a little towards his parents - especially his father - the blond grew distant and relatively unresponsive.

And it killed Combeferre, because he had to watch how his fairly confident, passionate and fiery friend reduced to an insecure, vulnerable and scared boy. every time they were only mentioned. And he didn't deserve it. Combeferre was sure of it.

He silently walked into the living room where both his parents were still enjoying their afternoon tea, although the atmosphere wasn't all that happy anymore.

"Everything alright, son?", Marcus asked concernedly when Combeferre entered the room.

Combeferre looked up and smiled sadly at his parents. He loved them; both of them and he appreciated their genuine concern about Enjolras. He wasn't surprised that they both closed his friend in their hearts the moment they met him.

"Yeah, everything will be fine, father", he said smiling, "Enjolras wasn't feeling all that well, probably because of his head injury. He'll be downstairs before dinner and asked me to tell you he was sorry and not to worry about him."

The minute the words left his mouth, Combeferre knew neither his father nor his mother believed him. However, they knew better than to press their son with questions. They had no doubt he was doing for Enjolras what was best.

"Mother, may I have a word with you", Combeferre then asked casually, although he could tell by the way his mother smiled compassionately at him and by her understanding look that she knew exactly what he wanted to talk about.

"Of course, darling, why don't you wait for me in the kitchen and I'll be there in a few minutes", Marie said sweetly as she started gathering the few cups and saucers.

Combeferre nodded, smiled at his father and left the living room. He wasn't really sure yet what we was going to tell his mother, because he didn't want to break Enjolras' trust, but he also knew he had to get some things of his chest. He needed another watchful eye, a mother's eye and he knew he could trust his own mother with everything.

* * *

As soon as Combeferre left their bedroom, Enjolras rolled on his back and stared at the ceiling. He felt lost and confused, but he couldn't quite understand why. It had been ages since he felt this safe and happy and he couldn't wish for anything better than Combeferre. He knew he was lucky to have him and he was more grateful than he could probably ever show.

He knew he could be himself with Combeferre without being judged and deep down he wanted nothing more than to confide in him fully. But he was just too afraid to do it. Things had happened in his short life that had been horrible and to be honest, Enjolras felt too humiliated to share his story. Other than that, he tried so hard not to think about it; he tried so hard to forget it. Telling Combeferre everything did not hold any benefits for himself even though he knew it would make Combeferre happy.

He didn't like to keep everything from the medical student, but it was just so much easier to stay quiet and pretend to be alright than to tell and explain it all. There were just some things he didn't trust anyone with; things he didn't want anyone to know. Not ever. He had already put so much of his trust in Combeferre and he was reluctant to put any more of it in one person. He didn't think he could ever do that; not anymore; not with anyone. He was afraid it would leave him vulnerable and exposed and an easy target.

Enjolras sat up straight and wiped away the remnants of tears. He had to put a stop to this. He couldn't keep breaking down like this every time something happened that reminded him of his past. He couldn't keep seeking comfort with Combeferre and then refuse to tell him anything. That just wasn't fair to his bespectacled friend and so it had to stop. He'd just have to be stronger from now on. He could do that; be strong and independent. Then Combeferre could stop worrying and he could stop being such a burden to the medical student.

Because that was what he feared most. That he was a bother to Combeferre. That his unwillingness to open up would eventually make Combeferre angry or tired of him. He never wanted to be a burden to anyone, but least of all to Combeferre. Because he didn't think if he could ever get over losing the medical student. Not now that he had gotten so attached to him.

It almost felt like having a big brother again and that feeling scared him most of all.

* * *

"So, what is it that you want to talk to me about, son?", Marie asked kindly as she entered the kitchen carrying a tray with cups and saucers.

Combeferre reached out to take the tray from her and carefully placed it on the counter. "I think you already know…", he said softly.

"I think I do to honey, but I'd still like you to tell me what it is exactly that has you feeling this troubled", Marie sat down at the kitchen table and pulled out a chair for her son to join her. "Come sit with me and tell me what's bothering you."

Combeferre sighed and sat down in front of his mother. He fiddled nervously with his fingers and thought on how he could best explain the subject without betraying Enjolras' trust in him. "Well, it's about Enjolras", he said quietly and when his mother nodded knowingly he smiled and continued.

"I'm starting to doubt if it was such a good idea for me to bring him here…And that doesn't have anything to do with you or with Enjolras, because I know he likes you and you like him and he feels welcome, but mother, he has been feeling worse in these past two days than he has since the whole time he was with me in Paris. And it already started in our carriage, when we were still travelling this way. It just seems like there are all these triggers here that bring back bad memories for him and I have no idea what to do about it, because he doesn't want to tell me anything."

He paused and frowned. That wasn't exactly true; he had told him about Henri. "Well, no, he has told me some things, but every time the conversation leans only a little bit towards his parents, he completely shuts down and no matter what I do, he won't open up. He gets angry or sad and then I feel guilty for pressing him in the first place, but I just really want to help him, Maman.."

He looked up at his mother. "I know that he has been through a lot; I know that from the little things he told me, but I found out mostly because of the scars on his body when I examined him or the nightmares he gets trapped in or the way he reacts at things. And I can't tell you or father everything, because I promised him things would stay between us and I don't want to betray his trust, but I need some help mother. I don't know what else I can do to help him."

Marie still didn't say anything, only nodded a little and raised her eyebrows; encouraging Combeferre to continue. Combeferre frowned. What else did she want to hear?

"And it's hard to approach him about it, because he's determined to handle everything by himself. He doesn't want help or pity or anything like that. It's almost like he's afraid to show any signs of weakness or defeat and no matter what I say, I don't get it through to him that it's okay to show those signs once in a while. But he just wants to be all independent and every time I think I'm getting close to really reaching him, it's like there's this brick wall suddenly building between us. It's like he doesn't trust me and that…well, that really hurts actually, because I'm doing everything I can to show him that he can trust me. With anything."

Combeferre slumped in his chair and let out a deep sigh. "I just want to help him".

Marie reached out and took hold of her son's hand. "And what is it exactly that you want to hear from me?", she said kindly.

"I don't know! Just…some advice would be great…you're a mother, you probably know better ways to approach these kind of things. I'm obviously going about it all the wrong way", Combeferre huffed indignant and something very close to a pout appeared on his face.

Marie squeezed Combeferre's hand gently and shook her head incredulously. "You have far too little faith in yourself son, because from what I hear, you're doing great."

Combeferre looked at her confusedly. "What do you mean? How can you possibly conclude that from what I just told you?"

"Look, honey, I've only known your friend for two days now and as much as I like him, it is not an easy young man", she started, holding up her hand to silence her son when he wanted to speak up in his friend's defense. "And I don't mean anything negative by that, I don't, because even I can see that he's a troubled boy that has probably lived through too much in his young years. And his experiences – whatever they might be – have formed him into what he is now. His behavior is all a result of what he has been through."

She took a deep breath and continued. "I don't know much about Enjolras' past, but his whole attitude tells me it must have been bad. He's a wonderful boy; passionate, polite, independent and definitely precocious, and those are the things he likes to show to others; that he is capable of taking care of himself; that he doesn't need any babying or help. Everything else he tries to hide. And he tries to hide that from everyone except from you Combeferre."

Combeferre was confused. Had his mother not been listening to him?

"You might not see it, honey, but that boy is a complete different person when he's with you. He allows himself to smile; to cry. He feels confident enough to voice his own opinion out loud or to seek comfort with you. He follows you everywhere; he listens to you and looks up to you. When you're not around, he locks up all those emotions that make him Enjolras and only shows that humble, polite and sophisticated version of himself. And even then, it's still a sweetheart, but you should not be blind to how much you've already accomplished with him Combeferre."

"You told me when you met him that he was a closed book. Now stop denying yourself any praise and open your eyes to how much he has opened up to you already. The fact that he doesn't talk to you about his parents doesn't mean he doesn't trust you. You cannot expect a boy as troubled as that one there upstairs to completely cast down all his walls and tell you everything you wish to hear. It doesn't work like that. This is probably all very confusing to him, because by the looks of it, he hasn't had someone he could really trust in a long time. It's only natural that he's being careful and reserved."

Combeferre let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head. "I know all that mother, and I don't judge him for it. I don't expect anything from him and I've told him that as well. I told him that he was free to tell me whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted to, but I just think it would be better for him to open up. I want to help him and I want him to trust me….I want to know what I can do to help him get there."

Now it was Marie's turn to sigh impatiently. Sometimes her son could be really thick. "You are already doing that, Combeferre", she said persistently. "You told him exactly what he needed to hear: that he is the one who decides what to tell you and when to tell you; that he is free to do it his way. And when he's ready to talk, he will come to you, honey, but try to give him that space. That boy has probably been pushed around his entire life, forced to do things he didn't want to do. You have to be careful with your approaches, no matter how well-intended they are. If he gets the feeling you are getting tired of him or if he starts to feel guilty for not telling you anything or if he feels pressured in any way, that could result in him fully drawing back from you. And you don't want that to happen, do you?"

"Of course not, but…"

"All Enjolras needs, Combeferre, is time. He needs time to rediscover who he is; what he's worth. And you just have to be patient. Be there for him when he comes to you; comfort him when he needs you, but don't push him too much. He needs to get there by himself and on his own terms. And you are already doing wonderful, son, you are. I see how he looks at you; how much you mean to him. Have some faith in yourself."

They were both silent for a moment. Then Marie added: "And it's not all that odd that being here brings back bad memories for him. What we have here is probably all that he has never had. And by the things you told me about him and what I've seen myself, it wouldn't surprise me if he feels guilty for enjoying himself here."

Combeferre snorted and nodded. "I'm sure he does; he has already asked me more than a few times if there was something he could do for you in return…He doesn't like the feeling of others doing him favors. He thinks of it as charity instead of love or genuine care."

Marie smiled sadly when she heard that, although she wasn't all that surprised. "Tomorrow is Christmas day", she said quietly, "And we're all going to do our very best to make him feel as much part of the family as if he is our own son. We'll make sure he is going to have a wonderful Christmas."

"Thanks maman", Combeferre whispered. He knew his mother was right. And he even though there still wasn't much he could do for Enjolras, he did feel a little better about it. "I really appreciate it. Is there anything I can do to help you with diner? Enjolras is only coming down when it's ready…He needs some time to himself, I think."

"No men in my kitchen while I'm cooking, honey. Faya is already gathering supplies, you go enjoy yourself. And stop worrying so much, you're a wonderful friend, I promise."

TBC.

_(Okaaay, so, I'm not really sure what I think of this chapter. Hope it wasn't boring and I'd really like to know what you think of Combeferre's mother. I normally don't give OC's a big role in my stories, so I'm a little doubtful if this is working out. Hope you liked it and please let me know in a review? Thanks!)_


	15. Chapter 15

_(Hi guys! Thanks again for all the lovely support you have given me. It means a lot :) Sorry this chapter took some time to update. I've been quite busy and summer has – finally – arrived in the Netherlands, so I just had to spend some time outside as well, haha. Here's the next chapter however, hope you like it!)_

Combeferre felt significantly better after his talk with his mother. He still felt like there was more he should be doing to help Enjolras, but the things his mother said made sense. Pushing Enjolras in any way whatsoever would probably only backfire and he didn't want to risk Enjolras shutting him out.

The rest of the evening had gone by quite quickly. When Enjolras came down for dinner, he was a little timid and obviously very embarrassed about his sudden leave earlier that afternoon. But Combeferre had squeezed his shoulder encouragingly and neither Marcus nor Marie asked him why he went upstairs in the first place, for which Enjolras was glad, because it meant that he didn't have to make something up. Apparently Combeferre had told them he wasn't feeling that well and just needed to lie down for a while.

"Feeling better, dear?" Marie had asked him when he appeared downstairs with Combeferre.

He had said he was and that was all that was said about it. Soon thereafter they dined together and Enjolras was almost able to forget about those dark memories that had threatened to overtake him only hours ago. Almost, but not quite. Something unsettling still stirred in Enjolras' stomach every now and then and even though Marie and Faya had once again prepared something delicious, the blond only dared to eat a few bites. Combeferre noticed how Enjolras shifted the food around his plate with his fork without actually eating anything, but he decided not to comment on it. It had been a long and rather eventful day and Combeferre wasn't surprised that Enjolras was feeling more than a little shaky.

* * *

They all called it an early night. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day and everyone wanted to be well rested. Combeferre and Enjolras were the first ones to turn in; both tired and both not really mentally present in the conversation at the table anyway. Enjolras had been awfully quiet ever since Marcus had read the article in the newspaper and Combeferre had to force himself to keep from asking questions.

"What is it that your family does all day on Christmas?" Enjolras asked curiously when they were both changed and in their beds. "I know your mother has been talking about the diner most of the time, but I'm sure that's not all that you do on a day that excites your whole family in such a way."

Combeferre smiled and took off his glasses. "Well, even though that is a very important aspect for us at Christmas – especially for my mother – that is indeed not all we do. Tomorrow morning we'll first go to church where we will attend the mass; afterwards mom and dad often help the bishop to distribute food to the poor. I don't always join them, but if you want we can make ourselves useful tomorrow as well. And the rest of the day we just spend together. We'll read together, we play games, we eat…mother wants us to sing, but only dad joins her, if she's lucky", he chuckled softly and wiped his glasses with a small cloth.

"The most important thing for my family is that Christmas day is spent in each others' company. It serves as sort of a reminder of what we have and how lucky we are to have it; to have each other. It's a very important day for my mother…especially since I moved out to Paris." He looked over at Enjolras and frowned when he saw his troubled face. "What's wrong?" he asked worriedly.

Enjolras looked up and shook his head. "It's nothing really…", he began quietly; hesitantly, "It's just that it's such an important day for you and your family and I don't want to be an intruder or something." He bit his lip nervously and eyed Combeferre warily.

Combeferre sighed and smiled warmly at his younger friend. "Do we give you the feeling that you're an intruder?" he asked seriously.

Enjolras shook his head, but still looked troubled.

"Enjolras, I _invited_ you here", Combeferre said briskly, "That means I _want _you here. And my parents welcomed you here as well. So stop whatever it is that you're thinking, because you are not an intruder. You're as much part of our Christmas celebration as any other one of us."

The blond smiled genuinely and nodded. "Alright", he mumbled quietly and then continued in a little steadier voice: "I am actually a little excited about it 'Ferre…it sounds a lot different from the Christmases we used to celebrate."

"How so?" Combeferre asked curiously.

Enjolras looked up and shrugged. "From what I remember it was all very stiff and elite. We didn't go to church; the bishop came to our house instead. And in the evening my father had invited all these rich, bourgeois families and me and Henri were told to either be quiet or have an intellectual conversation. Mother read us a story at night, but that was pretty much all the family time we got."

"That doesn't sound like much fun", Combeferre said and he tried to keep his voice light and casual.

A small smile tugged at Enjolras' lips. "No", he whispered, "But it was a lot better than after Henri died…" They were both silent for a moment and then Enjolras took a deep breath and cleared his throat. When he flashed a smile at Combeferre, the medical student knew that this was as far as they were going to get for tonight. And even though he wanted desperately to ask about the Christmases after his brother's death, he knew he shouldn't. _He'll come to you when he's ready_.

So instead he smiled back. "Well, you're going to enjoy it tomorrow, I'm sure", he said kindly. "We'd better get some sleep, because mother will wake us at the crack of dawn tomorrow…Although, come to think of it…that is normal for you anyway, isn't it?"

Enjolras only snorted and curled himself tighter in the blanket. "Goodnight 'Ferre", he mumbled and soon thereafter, they were both asleep.

* * *

Enjolras was already awake and dressed when Marie knocked on their door the following morning. She smiled warmly at him. "Merry Chrismas, dear", she said happily and she pulled him in a tight embrace. Enjolras – as usual – was momentarily shocked by the sudden intimate contact, but relaxed into her hold after a second. "Merry Christmas", he whispered back.

Marie smiled and brushed his hair back. "Sleep well? You're up so early…", she said while walking over to Combeferre's bed to shake her son awake.

"I did, Mada…Marie, I just always wake up early", Enjolras said and he smiled when Combeferre tried to push his mother away and turn around in his bed. "Combeferre usually sleeps until late noon. Sometimes he even skips class", he added jokingly.

Combeferre groaned, turned around and tried to glare at Enjolras. "That was one time…and only because you kept me up all night with your feverish talk of wanting a cat to care for." He ignored Enjolras' snort and turned to Marie. "Merry Christmas, mother."

Marie couldn't help but smile at the little banter between Enjolras and her son. _They really are practically brothers_. "Merry Christmas, son", she said happily and she pulled Combeferre in an embrace as well. "Now get dressed and be downstairs in fifteen minutes. We leave for church in half an hour."

* * *

Enjolras never really cared much for Christian religion before. The bishop that used to come to their house to preach was quite intimidating to the blond and mostly spoke of punishing the heretics instead of helping your fellow man. Afterwards he indulged himself in the abundance of food that was always present. Enjolras couldn't help but wonder how a God could watch all this inequality and injustice in the world without doing anything about it.

But the mass Enjolras attended that Christmas morning was a lot different than he was used to. The bishop spoke of charity and love; friendship and light; compassion and humility and Enjolras was actually quite intrigued by the end of the sermon. He wanted nothing more than to help Combeferre's parents and the bishop to give out food to the less fortunate. Combeferre wasn't surprised and he helped as well.

Afterwards, they returned home and settled for the Christmas brunch. Enjolras found that this was apparently the moment of the day where family memories were told and shared. Enjolras learned more about Combeferre's upbringing and about his childhood. "Marcus and I were once convoked by Combeferre's teacher because Combeferre was determined to save a butterfly in class instead of sitting down and being quiet", Marie said happily, "The same thing happened three times after that with a moth, a beetle and a frog and in the end Marcus and I just stopped trying."

Enjolras smiled and loved every one of the stories. He learned so much more about his friend and his parents and it made him feel as if he had been part of this family a lot longer than just these past few weeks.

"Well, since we're all in such a share and caring mood", Combeferre started, "Then let me tell you some things about this one right here. He's spending Christmas with us after all, so I guess we can count him as part of the family." He draped an arm around Enjolras' shoulders as he said so and grinned.

For a moment Enjolras feared Combeferre would actually share something he had told him in private, but he immediately mentally kicked himself when that thought crossed his mind. He trusted Combeferre.

"I already told you about how we met and so you know that he has spent his first week severely ill in my apartment, but what I want to share with you is that as soon as he was feeling only a little better – and by a little better I mean that he was able of staying awake longer than half an hour – he insisted on reading all the books of Rousseau that I own. I have three and he read them all in less than a week. Then he read them again and I'm not sure, but Enjolras, have you actually already read them a third time?"

Both Marie and Marcus laughed – even though Marcus wasn't such a big fan of Rousseau, but that had more to do with the man himself than with his literaly talents – and Enjolras couldn't help but blush a little. Then he nudged Combeferre in the chest and huffed annoyed. "No, I'm actually reading something your father has given me if you want to know, but even if I was reading Rousseau a third time there wouldn't be anything you could say to make me feel embarrassed about it. He has a lot of brilliant ideas that cannot be examined or analyzed enough and he's a good writer."

Combeferre laughed brightly and shook his head. "I would never want to embarrass you Enjolras. I merely like to share your passion with my parents."

But Enjolras didn't mind even if he would feel embarrassed. Because he knew exactly why Combeferre chose to share this story and he couldn't be more grateful. Sharing a memory that was centered around Enjolras was his way of showing that he was just as much part of this Christmas celebration – this family – as any one of them.

* * *

The rest of the day was mostly spent by playing games and – when Marie started to prepare diner - by reading in the living room. Enjolras was enjoying himself, he really was. He felt comfortable and relaxed. He was allowed to be himself.

After diner, the whole family sat together in the living room ; just to talk some more and to enjoy each others' company. Enjolras was more than a little shocked when Marie pulled out a bag of gifts. He was even more shocked when there was actually something in there for him as well. Marie and Marcus had gotten him a brand new notebook so he could actually keep all his notes together instead of spreading them out over single pieces of papers.

"Thank you so much", Enjolras had whispered softly, while tracing the cover of the little leather book with his fingers.

He was actually struck speechless when he received Combeferre's gift for him. He wouldn't be surprised if someone told him that his mouth was actually agape the minute he opened the gift. It was an old, beautifully detailed map of France. Apart from the usual land itself and the little dots that resembled cities, the map was decorated with little drawings, graceful writings and witty notes. The side of the map showed a short history of France, but not the history that was so often heard and written down by bourgeois royalists. This view of history was actually more focused on the ordinary citizen. At the top of the map, one word stood out proudly. "Patria". The subtitle read: _A detailed map of 19__th__ century France_.

Combeferre smiled as he observed Enjolras' reaction to the gift. He knew his friend would like the map. He was sure of it. It had been expensive, but seeing Enjolras' face was worth every single franc. The blond examined the map for a good five minutes before turning towards Combeferre; eyes wide and shining.

"You like it?" Combeferre asked.

Enjolras opened his mouth a few times and closed it again; something quite similar to a fish. Then he let out a small chuckle and actually threw both his arms around Combeferre; which was a gesture Enjolras had not done out of his own accord yet and Combeferre couldn't be happier. "I love it", Enjolras muttered quietly. "It's brilliant 'Ferre…thank you so much."

"You're very welcome", Combeferre said just as softly and he grinned happily at his parents.

* * *

Later that evening, when they all had retired and Combeferre and Enjolras were once again settled in bed, the blond thought back to the entire day. It was the first Christmas in his entire life that he had actually, truly enjoyed. Where he had actually felt loved and accepted. He felt a little guilty that he didn't have any gifts for Combeferre and his family, but they had assured him that it was all okay and that his company was more than enough. Still Enjolras wanted to show Combeferre his gratitude for pretty much everything he had done for him ever since they met. And just saying 'thank you' wouldn't cut it. Not for him.

He knew there was something that Combeferre wanted more than anything right now. To know about Enjolras' past. The blond still couldn't tell him most of it. Not because he didn't trust Combeferre, but because it was just too hard. But maybe he could give the medical student something. Just so that he'd know that he meant a lot to Enjolras. That Enjolras felt confident enough to confide in him.

He glanced over at Combeferre, who was engrossed in one of his books, and took a deep breath. Then he spoke.

"He hit me".

TBC.

_(Ah, this was a hard chapter! It's like a hundred degrees out here right now, so it's kind of difficult to picture a cold, 19__th__-history Christmas Day in France, but I hope it made some sense. At least Enjolras is feeling happy this chapter, that has to count for something right? Hope you liked it, please let me know and review! Thanks!)_


	16. Chapter 16

_(Hi lovely readers :) Thanks again so much for your feedback on this story. It is so highly appreciated. This will be the last update for a while, because I will be going on holiday in Spain for a couple of weeks and I won't have time to write there, unfortunately. Hope you'll like this chapter, enjoy!)_

"He hit me".

The words knocked the air out of Combeferre's lungs and he momentarily stared blankly at the page he was reading. Then he slowly raised his head and looked over at Enjolras. His friend sat upright, leaning against the head of the bed with his eyes cast down. He seemed to be perfectly at ease, with a relaxed, but pensive expression on his face, and Combeferre wondered if he actually only imagined it and Enjolras was in fact not speaking at all.

He cleared his throat and closed his book. He had waited for this moment for so long; for Enjolras to finally trust him enough and talk to him. For weeks, Enjolras had been beating around the bush. He had barely told him anything, and the things he _did_ tell were only forced out of him because of a night terror or a flashback. He had shut down again soon thereafter and refused to speak of it again. But now Enjolras actually spoke willingly; without anything to trigger it. He made a confession to Combeferre; a confession that lay at the base of all the misery in his short life together with the death of his brother and Combeferre was so shocked that all he managed to say was a dumbfounded "What?"

The smallest of smiles spread across Enjolras' face and he looked up to meet Combeferre's eyes. He wasn't even surprised by his friend's reaction. It was only logical he was shocked that Enjolras just came out and said something like that after weeks of silence and avoiding the subject. He was surprised himself as well; he hadn't planned on ever letting Combeferre in on certain parts of his childhood, but after this Christmas Day, he just felt an urge to open up a little more. He knew it would make Combeferre happy – as far as telling your friend that you'd been hit by your father could make him happy – and Enjolras figured it might be good for him too.

But that didn't mean he wasn't a little anxious. So he took a shaky breath and tried again, louder this time, and he held eye contact with Combeferre while he said it. "I said he hit me". The moment the words left his lips a second time, he averted his eyes and nervously bit his nails.

Combeferre blinked a few times and let the words sink in. _He is really saying it. He is really telling me_. He had known that Enjolras had been beaten up the minute he examined his injuries a few weeks ago and he was 90 per cent sure it was Enjolras' father who was responsible for the patchwork of bruises across his upper body. But Enjolras had been avoiding and denying this fact all along, until now. And so Combeferre was going to give him all the space and time Enjolras needed to tell his story.

"Your father", Combeferre stated quietly. It wasn't a question and Enjolras hadn't expected it to be. He wasn't stupid; he knew Combeferre had his suspicions from the moment they met and Combeferre hadn't been wrong yet. He glanced briefly at the medical student but didn't find anything other than genuine concern and care.

"Yes", he answered simply. And he swallowed the lump in his throat. Now was not the time to get emotional. This he could do – had to do – without tears and without sorrow. He was about to look up again, but then felt the bed dip and Combeferre was there next to him. Enjolras breathed out slowly and scooted over a bit, so that his friend could sit more comfortably.

"When?", Combeferre asked quietly. He didn't want to push Enjolras, not at all, but now that his friend was so close to telling, Combeferre felt comfortable enough to participate actively in the conversation.

Enjolras smiled wryly and shrugged. "Ever since the first Christmas after Henri died", he said slowly, "I was six years old when he hit me the first time. I remember it so well…It was exactly one year after my brother died and he was severely missed by everyone that day. Father drank…a lot…and that evening something in him snapped and he pushed me down the stairs."

Combeferre's mouth fell open and his eyes widened in shock. He felt a sudden wave of anger wash over him and he clenched his fists. For the sake of Enjolras though, he remained calm and he forced himself to relax. He closed his eyes for a moment, counted to ten and pressed his lips together in a tight line. Something told him this was only the tip of the iceberg and he feared the things Enjolras might reveal about his past.

Enjolras noticed his friend tense next to him and he fell quiet for a moment. He could imagine this was hard for Combeferre to hear. It was hard for him to tell and he wondered if he should just leave it at that and stop talking. But now that he had started, it was hard to cease.

"It's awful to say, but I wasn't even that surprised", Enjolras mumbled. "For an entire year, my father had told me that I was worth nothing; that I was a disappointment and a waste of his time. He told me I was a murderer and that I should have to pay for my sins. He yelled at me and asked me how I could've done this to Henri."

Enjolras paused a moment and let out another shaky breath. He had his eyes closed now and his heart was beating hard in his chest as the vivid memories assaulted him. He didn't dare to look at Combeferre.

"He started drinking soon after the funeral. He never drank before, but he did when Henri died. Me and him, we we're never that close, you know. Henri was always the perfect son, father loved him unconditionally…but I was just something he settled for. And after my brother died, he hated me. Like, really, really hated me. He couldn't stand to be around me and I became his target…He attacked me verbally at first; calling me names, running me down all the time and I figured I deserved it. But I guess he decided that Christmas that 'cursing' or scoffing me wasn't enough punishment, so he started to get physical. He never stopped after that Christmas - although it was always worse at Christmas - …he always found a reason to hit me, or starve me out or hurt me…He always found new ways to punish me, until I had enough and ran away."

Enjolras peeked at Combeferre through the curls that had fallen in front of his eyes and frowned when he saw how pale his friend had gotten. He had clenched his fists so hard, that the knuckles turned white and he was breathing heavily through his nose. His eyes were closed and when he opened them, Enjolras looked away quickly.

"What about your mother?" Combeferre asked quietly. His voice was trembling with suppressed anger. He hated violence and he liked to believe there was always a solution that didn't require bloodshed, but at this moment, Combeferre swore that if he ever got his hands on Enjolras' father, the man would regret he ever laid a hand on his son.

"Didn't she do anything to help you? To stop him?" He sounded harsher than he intended to and he silently cursed himself when Enjolras flinched at his tone, but he couldn't help it. He had never felt this angry in his whole life.

"She wasn't really there anymore", Enjolras whispered and he swallowed thickly, "After Henri died, she became some sort of ghost. She ate and slept and breathed, but she didn't live. I asked her for help once, I did, but it was almost as if she didn't hear me. She looked right through me…She hardly acknowledged me at all…she even called me Henri a few times, even though he and I didn't look anything alike. I guess a vital part of her died with her son…"

"Well, she had another son!" Combeferre exclaimed indignantly and the sudden raise of his voice caused Enjolras to recoil a little from him. Combeferre sighed and shook his head apologetically. "I'm sorry", he said quieter this time as he took off his glassed to wipe at his eyes, "I'm sorry, Enjolras, I'm just…outraged. This is…what he did to you…what they did to you…it's unacceptable, it's appalling…"

Enjolras flinched again at that word. _Appalling_. It was only natural for Combeferre to react the way he did, but it was hard for Enjolras to imagine this kind of outrage, because he had spend a large part of his life thinking that he deserved everything that happened to him. And he never before blamed his mother for not being there for him when he needed her. For her sake, he had tried to be an obedient son and complain as less as possible, just to make life easier on her after the horror she had been through. Combeferre however, didn't understand any of that and was almost as furious with Enjolras' mother as he was with his father.

"And wasn't there anyone else who noticed? Wasn't there anyone else who could help you? Not another family member or a teacher?" Combeferre asked briskly and he huffed when Enjolras slowly shook his head.

"I was homeschooled by a friend of my father's and when there were people coming over – like other family members for example – he always made sure to hurt me in places that wouldn't be visible. And I wasn't going to ask them for help, and I still wouldn't. I refused to beg anyone for help. Not that any of them would've helped if they knew…they were nothing like the people you grew up with 'Ferre…". Enjolras was suddenly so tired and he really didn't want to talk anymore.

They spent the next few minutes in silence. Enjolras didn't really know if he should tell Combeferre more…his angry reactions had scared the younger boy a little, to be honest. Because if Combeferre already got so mad when he heard about _this_, then how was he going to respond to the other things Enjolras had been through? _Maybe it's too much. Maybe I should just leave it at this…_

He let his eyes travel across the room until they fell on the map Combeferre had given him earlier that night. Looking at it, he felt his heart swell again. It was the perfect gift. He loved it deeply and felt immensely grateful for everything Combeferre had done for him. But telling Combeferre about his past had proved harder than he thought it would be and he feared that his friend would not be able to let this anger go. Enjolras sniffled quietly and crossed his arms over his chest; feeling a little embarrassed.

Combeferre noticed how Enjolras was slowly crawling back into his shell and he knew that it was partly his fault. He should've kept his emotions under control. He wanted Enjolras to feel safe with him; to trust him when something was bothering him, but he feared that the way he responded to this, had scared Enjolras away from him. He glanced at his younger friend and followed his gaze to the map he had given him. A small smile tugged at his lips and he gently nudged Enjolras' shoulder. When Enjolras looked up at him, he carefully draped an arm around his shoulders, just to let him know that they were okay. Enjolras leaned into the touch and they both sat like that for a while; lost in their own thought.

Then Combeferre spoke again, quietly and hesitantly. "What made you decide to run away in the end? You mentioned your father always came up with other punishments…did it get even worse than what you've just told me?" He knew it was a dangerous question; one that could shut Enjolras down completely…and besides that, Combeferre didn't really know if he wanted to know the answer.

Enjolras took a sharp intake of breath at hearing the question. He wasn't prepared for that; he didn't want to tell Combeferre everything. Not yet. He felt a blush color his cheeks and he swallowed nervously a few times. "I…I just…I don't know, I just had enough", Enjolras whispered softly. He was sure now that he was done talking; it was too much…Combeferre wanted to know too much.

"That's not really an answer to my question", Combeferre said patiently, but deep down he knew he was pushing it too far. He should stop; Enjolras had already told him more than he had expected and here he was about to ruin the whole thing. But his mouth kept babbling, even though his mind was screaming at him to shut up. "I asked you if things got worse than what you told me. What else did your father do to you, Enjolras? What else other than beating you?"

Enjolras' heart beat even faster in his chest and he felt like he was drowning. Memory after memory popped up; each one worse than the other and he feared he was going to be sick. He shivered and swallowed convulsively. Then he turned to Combeferre and his eyes were filled with hurt and disbelief, soon followed by anger. _Why is he pushing me so?_ He shoved his friend's arm away and jumped out of the bed. "Stop asking me", he snapped angrily and he glared at Combeferre. "I don't want to talk about it, leave me alone."

"Enjolras, wait…" Combeferre tried desperately, and he got up from the bed as well, but the blond had already grabbed his jacket and was about to leave the room. Combeferre cursed himself over and over again "I'm sorry", he whispered quietly, when the door slammed shut. _How can you be this stupid, Combeferre? He finally decides to confide in you and now you've ruined everything._

He let himself fall back on the bed with a frustrated groan and fisted both his hands in his hair. For a short moment, he wondered if he should go after Enjolras, but he decided against it. That would probably only make things worse. For now, it might be best to give Enjolras some space; some privacy. A bitter laugh escaped Combeferre's mouth. _Well, I did get my answer…_, he thought wryly and he shook his head.

_Well done, Combeferre_.

TBC.

_(Oh dear, Combeferre's anger and worry has gotten the best of him. He wants to help so badly, poor guy. Please let me know what you think and review! Thanks and I'll miss writing this one for the coming few weeks.)_


	17. Chapter 17

_(Hi guys! Thanks again for all the lovely support you have given me :) It is so highly appreciated! Hope you'll like this chapter, enjoy!)_

Enjolras stormed out of the bedroom, down the stairs and straight towards the front door. He needed to get out; he needed to get some air; to clear his mind. Combeferre's questions echoed through his head and Enjolras needed them to stop. _What else did your father do to you? Did it get even worse? Was there more?_ _What made you run away?_ Enjolras breathed heavily through his nose as he practically bolted outside into the icy cold December air.

He walked down the path away from the house and then he just kept walking. Stupid Combeferre and his stupid questions. Why did he have to push him so, did they not have a deal? Did Combeferre suddenly change his mind and would he demand Enjolras to tell him everything about his past? He couldn't. He wouldn't. Not now, not ever. It was too much.

Enjolras was fuming. If there was one thing he had inherited from his father it had to be his short temper. Even though Enjolras was mostly able to keep his anger in check, sometimes it would only take a few bad words or actions to have him spew fire and curse the world around him. Now was no different. He was angry. Angry at himself, angry at his family, angry at Combeferre and his stupid questions and his stupid worrying and pushing. He was angry that he felt so disappointed and lost and scared. Without really realizing it, he had started to run and while his legs carried him faster and farther away from Combeferre and his parents, his eyes had started to water and angry tears trickled down his face only to freeze somewhere along his cheeks.

Everything was ruined now. He should've never have told Combeferre anything. He should have known that it would only lead to more questions and to more worrying and now he was angry at Combeferre and Combeferre was angry at him and it was all going completely wrong. Enjolras cursed himself; cursed his father and everything he had done to him and he ran and ran until his legs gave up on him and he collapsed on the frozen grass somewhere in the middle of a field, surrounded by nothing but the pitch black darkness of the night. There he stayed and tried to catch his breath while his shoulders shook from the effort to refrain from turning into a sobbing mess.

He hated that his past still had such a tight grip on his present life while he tried so hard to let it all go and forget about it. He hated the fact that, even though he now knew very well that all that had happened to him was unjust and downright wrong, a part of him still thought he deserved it. He hated that even when his father was far away and would likely never cross his path again, the memories still reduced him to a scared, trembling child. He hated that no matter what he did, no matter how happy he felt, that darkness from years of abuse and neglect still followed him everywhere. Always haunting and mocking him. Ever present.

He let himself fall on his back in the grass and glanced up at the dark clear sky. There was no moon, but there were stars and the longer he looked, the more he saw. Hundreds of them. Twinkling and beautiful and Enjolras wondered how something so bright and wonderful could look down on this wretched and awful world. It made him sad and angry at the same time. He remembered a night not too long ago where he and Combeferre were watching the stars together after an evening stroll down the Jardin du Luxembourg. They had exchanged ideas then and they had their first small argument together when Enjolras had talked about revolution and battle in order to bring change to the world while Combeferre had declared his aversion of violence and bloodshed in any case at all.

Another round of fresh tears gathered in Enjolras' eyes as he remembered that night and he suddenly felt so miserable and lost. He had had such a wonderful time this Christmas day; he had felt genuinely happy and safe and he had screwed it all up by deciding to tell Combeferre about his father. He should have guessed that it would be too much for his friend to handle. He should have known that Combeferre would only be more worried and he should have known that Combeferre would have guessed that there was more behind the story. The medical student always seemed to look right through to him. And Enjolras cursed himself for reacting in such a strong way. He could've just told Combeferre that he didn't want to talk about it. He didn't have to get so angry. He didn't have to run away and destroy everything.

_Always a screw-up_, he thought bitterly. _You have one friend. One friend after years of loneliness. One friend who accepts you, cares for you and would do anything for you and you drive him away, because you don't know how to deal with your emotions. Stupid._ He furiously wiped the tears away and sat up straight. He knew Combeferre would probably feel miserable himself; Maybe he should just go back and make things right. Apologize and move on. He hoped Combeferre would still have him.

Enjolras got to his feet and tried to wrap his jacket around him tighter, suddenly aware of the piercing cold that had started to numb his fingers and toes. He vaguely noticed that he was trembling and he wished he would have been smart enough to bring either a scarf or some gloves before bursting out the front door earlier. He looked around him and tried to make out his surroundings, but there were no lights except from the stars, which didn't help much, and everything was pitch black. He turned around and then again and again and he realized that he had no idea where he was or how to get back. When he left the house, he had been running blindly, panicked and angry and without any knowledge of which way he went. He found himself in the middle of nowhere, in a field with no houses or roads or villages in sight and he swallowed nervously.

_I'm lost_.

* * *

Combeferre in the mean time was full on panicking. He was pacing around the living room; snapping at his parents and glancing towards the front door every other second. When Enjolras had fled their bedroom, Combeferre decided not to follow him. He figured Enjolras wanted to be alone and after screwing up royally with his stupid questioning, Combeferre thought it wise to give his friend some space and privacy and apologize later.

_I should have known better_. _He was panicking and angry and you should have never left him alone._

The second he had heard the front door slam shut, he flew down the stairs and ran outside hoping to still catch his blond friend, but he was too late. He couldn't spot Enjolras anywhere in the dark and there was no answer to his desperate calls. Combeferre had searched the surroundings of the house; he had searched the small cabin in the back yard, but Enjolras was gone and Combeferre felt a cold wave of fear and self-hatred wash over him. _This is all your fault_.

His shouting had woken up his parents and they had dragged him inside, away from the cold. He had told them everything that had happened. He told them that Enjolras was opening up to him; that he talked about his past and he told them about his mistake to keep pushing for answers. Combeferre had noticed the brief flicker of disappointment and despair in his mother's eyes, even though she did her best to hide it from him. But Combeferre felt she was right to be disappointed. He was disappointed in himself as well. His mother had warned him for this; she had told him to be careful around Enjolras. She had told him that something as small as this could drive someone as troubled as Enjolras away easily. And he had done just that. He had scared his young friend away. He had broken their trust.

"We have to look for him again, mother! Now!", he pleaded desperately, "It's freezing cold out there, he only has a light jacket and he has no idea where he is."

His mother looked at him sympathetically and shook her head. "I know darling, and we have been looking for the past hour and a half, but he is nowhere in sight. We have been to the village; we have searched the road…", she paused and squeezed her son's shoulder, "It is the middle of the night, honey, we can't see anything, we are only with three people…there's only so much we can do."

"How can you even say that?", Combeferre exclaimed incredulously, "How can we just sit here inside while he is out there somewhere probably freezing to death! We have barely looked, mother! We have only searched our ground and…well, and the village, but there are so many more places he could be. We can't give up, I won't. I'm going back out there."

"You have no idea where to start, son, you'll freeze to death yourself before you've even covered one kilometer in every direction", Marcus said sadly, "Besides, Enjolras is a smart kid, he'll find shelter…"

Combeferre groaned and shook his head. "You can't be serious…"

"Combeferre, honey, your father is right. Enjolras is smart…he'll be okay, I'm sure of it. He might even be on his way home already…We'll keep looking around our house; we'll keep searching our grounds and we will keep our faith", Marie said quietly as she pushed her son into a chair, "And the second the sun is up and he isn't back home yet, we will find help and expand our search."

Then she leaned in closer and stroked Combeferre's hair. "I know this is hard for you, darling, and I know you feel guilty and want to make things right…but you and I both know it is also very possible at this point that Enjolras doesn't want to be found…"

Combeferre felt like an iron fist had taken hold of his heart and was now squeezing with all its might. His mother was right. Maybe he doesn't want to be found._ You drove him away_. _What if he never comes back?_ He pushed up from the chair again and put on two jackets, a big shawl and some gloves. Then he grabbed a woolen blanket from the couch and marched towards the front door.  
"I'll be outside…", he said firmly and before either of his parents could say something or stop him, he added: "Around the house, if you forbid me to go farther, but I refuse to sit inside and just wait."

With that, he slammed the door shut and walked down the pathway that lead to their house. It was already close to four in the morning and even though it would take some time for the sun to come up, Combeferre knew that the first people would start to get up and go to work in about two hours. That meant that there would be more light, and more people to help him look.

And until that time, he would look for his friend _everywhere_. His parents' words be damned. He left the road and walked in the other direction. Away from the village, away from his house and into the countryside. He knew this place by heart; had played here since he was a kid; he had gone on adventures in the woods…Combeferre was sure he would also find his way in the dark. And if not, then at least he would be warm enough to wander around until the darkness had faded. But he refused to do nothing. It was his fault Enjolras was out there and it was his job to fix the mess that he had created. He just hoped his friend would be okay once he found him.

_Please be okay, Enjolras_.

* * *

Enjolras looked around frantically as he searched his mind to remember which way he had come, but he couldn't remember. He had no idea and he couldn't see _anything_. The cold had now crept into his bones and he found it difficult to breath. He was getting tired and his head hurt. He wanted nothing more than to lie down and go to sleep, but he knew he couldn't. If he fell asleep now, he would never wake up again and Combeferre would spend the rest of his life in guilt and Enjolras didn't want that.

_I've got to keep warm_, he thought, _I've got to keep moving_. He knew it would be best if he started walking again. Or running. But he didn't know where he was and if he completely left this place, it was very possible that he would wander even farther away from Combeferre and his parents and _what if I never find my way back again_. He briefly wondered if Combeferre was looking for him. He wished he was and he prayed he would find him. Enjolras didn't like the dark.

He shook his head and tried to clench and unclench his fingers, which by now, he couldn't feel at all anymore. _I have to keep moving_. And then he forced his frozen legs to move. He walked very slowly back and forth and then a little faster. Then slower again, and then he ran for a minute or so, but he made sure he stayed more or less in the same spot. He had to keep moving, but he couldn't exhaust himself. He had to keep this up until the sun came up, which could be hours from now.

He suppressed a small sob when every muscle in his body protested. Everything hurt. _Don't give up. Don't give up. Keep moving_. He tried to keep his mind busy and he thought about Combeferre and how he always seemed to be able to make everything better. He thought about Combeferre's parents and the Christmas day. He thought about his first presents ever. _Don't give up. Keep moving._

He thought about how long he would be able to keep this up…

TBC.

_(Okay, so, I'm not entirely happy with this chapter (big surprise there), but I hope it turned out okay. Please let me know what you think and review. It would mean a lot! :) _


	18. Chapter 18

_(Hi guys! Thank you all again for the reviews, follows and favorites. You make me happy and keep me motivated. Here's the next chapter, hope you'll like it :))_

* * *

Enjolras was tired. Really tired. He had managed to keep moving for another half hour or so, but his legs refused to keep him up any longer. He collapsed and curled into a tight ball, hands tucked under his chin and knees drawn up to his chest. _I'm going to die_, he thought. And he didn't even know how he felt about that fact. He wasn't angry or sad or scared. He didn't fear death, although ever since he was old enough to understand the injustice around him, he had felt like he was meant for something bigger. Meant to do something good; bring a change to the world. But apparently, he had been wrong. He didn't regret much. All he regretted was that he was going to die while he and Combeferre were fighting. He didn't want that. _I'm going to die and I didn't even tell Combeferre how grateful I am; how much he means to me._

The cold did not bother him as much anymore. It was still there, but it felt like his body had shut itself off from all feelings such as cold or pain. He felt numb and tired. Really tired. His mind was slowing down; everything was bleary and it took too much effort to really think about anything. Enjolras wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. To give in to that exhaustion that had been plaguing him for hours now. But he knew that if he went to sleep, the chances that he would wake up again were minimal. He knew that if he gave in, he would probably die and he would never see or speak to Combeferre again. And that fact withheld him from falling into oblivion. Because somewhere deep down, he still prayed and hoped that Combeferre would find him. And as long as that small grain of hope was there, warming his heart, Enjolras would stay awake.

He wasn't shivering anymore; his muscles too numb to contract. His breathing was shallow and labored, but he did his best to warm his freezing fingers as much as possible. He didn't dare to look at them; afraid of what he might see. He had read about frozen and blackened fingers and feet of the French soldiers who fought the Russians in the Napoleonic Wars and even though he knew his situation was nowhere near similar, he was still scared to acknowledge the actual damage.

A lone tear trickled down his cheek as he lay there in the frozen grass. He never thought his life would end this way; alone and cold in the dark. _It's my own fault; I ran away, I got myself lost_. He thought about Combeferre and the pain he was going to cause the medical student once he found his cold body. Well, assuming he would be looking for him, but Enjolras was almost certain he would. Yes, he was angry with Combeferre, but he didn't think the man deserved this. He would feel guilty his entire life and that would hold him back from all the great things he was meant to do in his life. _And all because you had to run away. Because you can't deal with your emotions in a normal way. It's all your fault. _

Another tear and Enjolras squeezed his eyes shut when more threatened to fall. He didn't deserve any better than this. He would die where he belonged; on his own, surrounded by darkness. It was fitting; his life hadn't seen much sunshine anyway. Not until Combeferre came along…

His breathing slowed down even more. He knew he was now wheezing with every breath he took and he was practically gasping. He swallowed and tried to curl in on himself even further, but his body was too numb to obey. _This is it. I'm done now. I'll fall asleep and that will be the end of it_, he thought when exhaustion forced his eyes shut. _I'm sorry Combeferre_…

And then there was a voice. It came from far away, but at the same time, it seemed close. So very close. Close enough for it to breach Enjolras' numb state of mind. Asking him to open his eyes; begging him to please, please wake up. And then there were hands. Clutching at him; pulling him close. One in his hair, another one at the nape of his neck. He was cradled against a warm chest and a thick, woolen blanket surrounded his entire frame. But he was still so tired; so very tired. It took him a great deal of effort to blink his eyes open again. Through small slits he saw a figure; dark yet familiar. He would've cried if he had enough energy. It was Combeferre.

* * *

It took Combeferre little less than an hour to find Enjolras once he had abandoned the road and marched into the countryside instead. As he child he had spent a lot of his time here; observing plants and animals; going on adventures with the other kids and – when he was older – lying in the soft grass to think or study. Admittedly, it was a lot harder to find his way in the dark, but he managed and he watched closely if he saw or heard anything out of the ordinary. He had almost lost all hope of finding his young friend in time until he reached the broad meadow, which covered a large area. The grass was long however. So long, that it was easy to see where people had walked into it, because of the trampled blades. It was only a matter of time then, for Combeferre to find Enjolras. He only prayed he wasn't too late. It was cold. Cold enough for the medical student to shiver despite his many layers of clothing and the woolen blanket he carried with him.

A few things happened at the same time when Combeferre's eyes made out the small figure lying on in the grass only a little distance away. His heart at first jumped in relief, because he was sure he had found Enjolras. It dropped immediately however when he realized the figure was lying very still. Too still. He started running and shouting at the same time; closing the distance between him and Enjolras in record time. He fell down on his knees next to the young blond and reached out. Cupping his head, his hands, his shoulders. He was so cold. Too cold. _No, no, no, this can't be true. This can't be happening._ He pressed shaking fingers against Enjolras' neck and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when he felt a shallow flutter of a heartbeat.

"Enjolras? Please open your eyes for me?", he said loudly and he cradled the small boy against his chest. He threw the large, woolen blanket around them both and made sure it covered every inch of Enjolras' body. "Please, wake up? Everything will be fine, please open your eyes? Come on."

He gently shook Enjolras in his arms and let out a relieved laugh when the boy opened his eyes and blinked up at him through mere slits. Combeferre pulled his friend closer to him. "Thank God…thank god", he whispered over and over again. Then he carefully took Enjolras' hands in his own – wincing when he saw the damage the cold had already done – and brought them to his mouth. He pressed his lips against the fingers and breathed against them. "You're going to be okay, I promise, just stay awake for me, Enjolras", he said quietly. "I know you're tired, but you can't go to sleep." Combeferre didn't know how bad Enjolras' condition was, but he knew it could be dangerous to fall asleep when the body temperature was below a certain point. He could slip into a coma or worse: never wake up again.

Enjolras didn't say anything, but tried to do as Combeferre told him and he focused on keeping his eyes open. He knew his friend was helping him, but the warm breath against his fingers really hurt a lot and he wished Combeferre would just stop. Instead of forming words however, he let out a low whimper and in response, Combeferre tightened his hold. "I know it hurts. I know..", but he didn't stop. He did, however, take off his own scarf and loosely wrapped it around Enjolras' head and neck. Then he opened the first few buttons of the younger one's jacket and placed his hand on his chest to monitor his breathing and heartbeat more closely. He winced at the coldness he found there.

They sat like that for a little while; Combeferre doing his best to shield Enjolras from the freezing cold and Enjolras trying to slowly get back to his more coherent self. When Combeferre found that Enjolras' breathing was getting more even and secure, he felt certain enough to move the him and get him back home as soon as possible. He carefully crossed Enjolras' arms over his chest and placed either hand under his armpits beneath his jacket. "Keep them there, Enjolras, I know it hurts, but you really need to try and get them as warm as possible." He smiled kindly when Enjolras nodded and placed one arm under his friend's knees and the other across his back. Then he stood and lifted Enjolras at the same time; holding him close and tucking his head under his chin. He frowned at the easiness with which he could pick the boy up. He was still far too light for Combeferre's liking. But that would be a concern for another time.

"Don't go to sleep, alright?", he breathed softly, as he pressed his lips against Enjolras' forehead, doing the same as he had done earlier with his fingers. When he more felt then saw his friend nod his head – blond curls tickling his face – he chuckled and whispered: "Good, you're doing great. Everything will be fine, I promise."

When they started their way back, Combeferre noticed he had started to shiver more violently now that the warmth of the blanket and the scarf were missing and the umpteenth pang of guilt shot through his heart as he realized how he and his pushing for answers had resulted in Enjolras spending hours in the cold with only a thin jacket and no gloves. Combeferre swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and he pressed a light kiss on Enjolras forehead. He was going to fix this; even if it would be the last thing he'd do, he was going to fix this. He would do everything to earn back his friend's trust.

"I'm still angry with you", Enjolras whispered suddenly in a weak and raspy voice. He winced the second the words left his mouth; he hadn't realized speaking would hurt his throat that much. He briefly wondered if Combefere had actually heard him; he was hardly making a sound. But when he glanced up and saw how Combeferre bit his lip and swallowed thickly, he knew it had been loud enough.

"I know", Combeferre said quietly, heart beating a little louder and faster at hearing those words, "I'm angry with me too, but I'll fix this, Enjolras, I promise you. We'll be alright; I'll make this right…"

They were both silent for a while, but then Enjolras spoke again. "I got lost…I'm sorry I ran away…"

Combeferre shushed him and pressed his forehead against Enjolras' for a second. "Don't apologize to me, you have nothing to be sorry for…we'll be okay…", he whispered directly in the blond' s ear. "Everything is going to be fine. Keep your eyes open for me…And try not to talk, Enjolras, just focus on staying awake and getting warm, alright?"

Enjolras did not answer, but turned his head ever so slightly and tried to snuggle closer to Combeferre's chest.

* * *

Combeferre let out a relieved sigh when he turned a corner and saw the house. They'd made it back. A small smile tugged at his lips and he picked up his pace. As soon as he got to the front door, he started pounding on it and called for his parents to open up. They did so practically the same second and had obviously been waiting anxiously for their son and his protégé to return home. Marie let out a breathless gasp when she lay eyes on Enjolras and immediately announced she was going to make some tea and bolted towards the kitchen even before Combeferre could ask her to.

"Father, is there a fire going?", Combeferre asked urgently.

Marcus nodded and pressed a quick and light kiss on his son's forehead. They had been worried sick when they couldn't find Combeferre outside and realized he had left their grounds in search for Enjolras. All anger had ebbed away however as soon as they saw Enjolras and the state the poor blond was in.

"Yes, of course my son", he said hastily and he lead Combeferre to the living room and snatched another blanket from the couch which he draped over his son as soon as he had settled on the floor in front of the fire; Enjolras still against his chest.

"Help me with his boots please? Careful though…", Combeferre warned his father as he discretely nodded towards Enjolras' fingers, which were swollen and colored white, yellow and even a little bluish black in some places. His father frowned concernedly and cautiously got to work. He was a physician himself and he immediately recognized those first symptoms as frostbite. Enjolras whimpered weakly when Marcus took of the boots and tried to squirm away, but Combeferre held him in place.

"Shh, you're okay, it's not that bad, I promise", he whispered softly in Enjolras' ear. And it really wasn't when he took a look; it could have been so much worse. They helped the blond to stretch out his legs so that his feet were close to the fire and Marcus carefully wrapped them in a blanket as well. Combeferre in the meantime had resumed warming Enjolras' fingers the way he had been doing in the beginning. He then quietly coaxed the blond into sipping some of the tea that Marie had brought him and he let out a relieved sigh when Enjolras started to shiver violently.

"Why is he trembling so?", Marie asked worriedly and she searched her husband's face with wide eyes, "Shouldn't he be getting warmer now? With the tea and all the blankets?"

Marcus smiled at her and kissed the top of her head. "He_ is_ getting warmer", he told his wife reassuringly, "When the body temperature gets below a certain point, shivering no longer happens. The fact that he is now, means his temperature is rising again; his muscles are getting warmer and start to contract to create more warmth. It's a good sign, Marie, don't worry, Enjolras will be fine."

Enjolras in the meantime felt miserable. He was still exhausted and he had been fighting sleep for such a long time now. His mind was still hazy; he knew he was back at Combeferre's parents' home and he knew they were working hard to get his body warm again, but the words that were spoken to him and the questions they asked him seemed to pass by him. He couldn't really focus on anything. He was mostly aware of the fact that the more they tried to warm him up, the colder he felt. His whole body was trembling and his teeth started chattering and Enjolras really wanted to hide away from everyone and go to sleep. Unconsciously, he nuzzled closer to Combeferre in search for more warmth and he let out a broken moan when it didn't help. Everything started to hurt. Every muscle, every bone, every breath.

Combeferre did his best to ease his friend's discomfort by talking to him in a soft and gently voice and rubbing small circles over his back. He knew Enjolras had to be in quite some pain now that the numbness started to fade and his muscles came back to life. Not to mention his fingers and his toes, which were likely to hurt for at least a few days more and would take a little longer still to fully heal. Combeferre worried more for Enjolras' fingers than he did for his toes; the fingers looked a lot worse and he found himself praying that the nerves wouldn't die away.

After another half hour or so, the shivering had settled down for the most part and Enjolras was slowly but surely starting to feel a little better. The intense and piercing cold was starting to fade and his muscles didn't hurt as much anymore. He was drained of all energy however; no longer able to keep himself awake. His eyes kept falling shut and even though he tried to open them every time Combeferre asked him to, he just couldn't do it anymore.

Marcus knelt down next to his son and Enjolras and examined the blond carefully. He felt Enjolras' pulse, checked his breathing and asked him a few simple questions. Then he smiled and turned to his son. "You can take him to bed; I'm fairly sure it's safe for him to go to sleep now. I don't know if we would be able to keep him awake even if it wasn't", he said gently, "Poor kid is utterly exhausted."

Enjolras felt slightly annoyed at being called a 'poor kid', but he didn't have the energy to respond. He couldn't be happier however when it dawned on him that he had been given the green light to go to sleep. He felt how Combeferre carefully lifted him again – blanket and all – and carried him up the stairs. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Enjolras swore to himself that this would be the last time ever someone had to carry him. He didn't like it at all. It was humiliating. Now was not the time however to whine about it; everything was fine as long as he was going to be allowed to sleep.

Combeferre couldn't suppress a smile when he noticed the irritated frown edged across Enjolras' face the moment he lifted him up. His smile spread even wider when the blond started to nod of in his arms; eyes heavy with sleep. When they reached their bedroom, Combeferre placed Enjolras on the bed and quickly took off his jacket; only to replace it with a warm vest. Then he pulled the woolen blanket back around him, followed by the covers of the bed. Enjolras immediately curled up on his side and closed his eyes. He was vaguely aware of the fact that Combeferre climbed into the bed as well, took his hands again and continued warming them up.

When Enjolras blinked his eyes open and looked at him quizzically, Combeferre smiled kindly at him and nodded. "You can sleep, Enjolras. I'll be here…everything will be fine. Just sleep for now…" And that was all the convincing Enjolras needed as he drifted off.

TBC.

* * *

_(Yeaah, so, hope this one was okay! I wasn't really sure how to write a hypothermia case, but I hope it came out okay. Dear little Enjy will suffer from it for a while though, poor thing. Please let me know what you think of this one and review? Means a lot, thanks!)_


	19. Chapter 19

_(Hi guys! A huge thanks again to all of you. You are the reason this story is still up and going. I struggled a lot with this chapter, but I hope it turned out okay. I'm off to bed now; I just donated blood for the very first time today and it has left me a little lightheaded, haha. Please enjoy!) _

* * *

Enjolras woke up hours later. He knew the sun had to be long since up, because even though the drapes were closed, the room was still lit. He opened his eyes and looked around the room, but he didn't move yet. He was too comfortable, cozy and warm beneath the pile of blankets and his limps felt too heavy to move anyway. The first thing he noticed upon opening his eyes, was that he was alone. There was no one in the room with him and it was very, very quiet. That didn't bother him that much though. He was glad to have a few moments to himself, before he had to explain to everyone why he had been so stupid to run out into the countryside while it was freezing cold.

The last thing he remembered before falling asleep was Combeferre lying next to him on the bed, still fervently trying to warm his fingers while gently telling him it was okay to go to sleep. Enjolras carefully brought his fingers up from underneath the blankets and glanced at them; fearing what he might see. To his surprise however, they were all wrapped up in a soft bandage-like fabric and he was not able to see the damage the cold had done. Combeferre must have treated them while he was out for the count and Enjolras figured he must have been truly exhausted if Combeferre's actions had not waked him up.

He let out a small sigh and looked around the room. Everything was still exactly the way it had been before he had stormed out; but to Enjolras it didn't feel the same. He suddenly felt very unwelcome and misplaced and it was almost as if the room was suffocating him. Mocking him. His eyes rested on the large map Combeferre had given him for Christmas and his throat felt constricted. _I've made such a fool of myself. They'll all want me gone now_, he thought and he closed his eyes to shut out the room where he had felt so safe and loved. _I've been invited in their home; I've celebrated Christmas with them and then I make the most stupid mistakes. Why did I have to run? What must they think? I've acted like an ungrateful brat…_

Tears formed behind his eyelids and he sniffled quietly. The self-hating; regrettable and shameful thoughts completely took over his mind and there was no room left for him to feel betrayed by or angry at Combeferre. Enjolras had fully forgotten about the fact that it was due to his friend's pushing that he had felt the need to run away.

* * *

When he heard the door open quietly half an hour later, Enjolras shifted a little in the bed and opened his eyes again. He looked up at what he hoped would still be his best friend with wide, fearful eyes and watched him closely as Combeferre moved towards the bed carrying a tray with tea and bread and fruit. The older boy tried to be as quiet as possible and had obviously not yet noticed Enjolras was awake. When their eyes finally met, Combeferre looked just as nervous and terrible as Enjolras felt.

He anxiously watched how the medical student carefully put down the tray and took his position on the other side of the bed again. The blond swallowed nervously and tried to hide away further beneath the blankets, although his eyes never left Combeferre's. He pressed his lips together and bit the inside of his cheeks. He felt more than a little unsure of what Combeferre was going to say to him. _Is he going to be angry with me? Is he going to yell at me? Tell me what a disappointment I am? Is he going to send me away?_

Combeferre however, did none of those things. Instead, he lay down on his side opposite of Enjolras and looked at him with a nervous, but kind and gentle smile on his face. They were silent for a few moments; both building up the courage to speak, although neither suspecting the other one of doing so. In the end it was Combeferre who cleared his throat and spoke first, even though his voice was trembling and he didn't look as certain as he tried to come across.

"How are you feeling?", he asked quietly; his eyes searching Enjolras' face and his hand carefully reaching out to rest on his forehead. "You're a little warm…"

Enjolras closed his eyes for a second; momentarily reassured by Combeferre's gently touch. When his friend removed his hand again however, all the nerves and angst came rushing back and hit him full force and a sudden wave of nausea washed over him.

"Enjolras?" Combeferre sounded very worried, but Enjolras could hardly hear him over the loud ringing in his ears and his frantically beating heart. His breathing turned into panting and he tried to squirm away from Combeferre. He didn't even think that there was a possibility that Combeferre wasn't there to yell at him or punish him. His mind was screaming at him to get out as fast as possible; that Combeferre was only there to send him away. Tears were soon clouding his vision as Combeferre grabbed both of his shoulders in an attempt to keep him from falling out of the bed.

"Enjolras, please calm down? Hey! It's alright; everything is okay…What's wrong? Why are you panicking?"

Enjolras did not answer. He didn't even hear him. Breathing was suddenly very difficult and within a few seconds he was practically gasping for breath. He was hyperventilating and it scared him, because he was really trying to breath, but his lungs refused to cooperate and his throat was clenching dangerously close. It wasn't until he felt Combeferre pull him upright and wrap his arms around him that his friend's words were breaking through to his mind. Combeferre was speaking directly into his ear and he was rubbing soothing circles on his chest.

"Breath with me, Enjolras. In and out, come on, you can do that. Deep breaths. In and out. Good, that's it, a little deeper this time. In and out."

To Combeferre's relief, Enjolras was calming down relatively fast again, although he had no idea why his friend was experiencing a panic attack in the first place and it left him feeling very worried and unsettled. By the time he was breathing normally again, Combeferre had shifted in such a way that Enjolras could sit fairly upright to breathe easier, but also able to lean comfortably against Combeferre's chest with the blankets pulled up as far as his chin.

"What was that all about, Enjolras? What's wrong?", Combeferre asked quietly when Enjolras had calmed down. He was still gently rubbing circles over his chest with one hand, while he carefully carded the other one through the tousled blond curls. "Are you in pain? Was it a nightmare?"

Enjolras felt like crying. Why was Combeferre so nice to him? The gently touches of his friend had him soon slumped against his chest and Enjolras once again felt like a fool. Now that he had calmed down, he realized that he had overreacted. And how he had drove himself crazy by thinking Combeferre would actually send him away; be mad at him; after everything they had been through already. He felt ridiculous. _You are so stupid, Enjolras_.

"Enjolras", Combeferre said again, "Talk to me, mon petit Ami, what's wrong?"

Enjolras sniffed quietly and slowly shook his head; feeling more embarrassed than ever. "Nothing is wrong…I just…I…I thought you'd be angry…and I…I don't know…", he whispered softly and somewhere deep down he hoped Combeferre hadn't heard him.

But he did hear. And he didn't scoff, nor did he laugh, judge or chastise. He did however tighten his hold on his young friend and rested his chin on the top of his head; sighing softly. They really needed to sort things out. Enjolras had never had such strong emotional reactions before, but over the course of the past few days…It only got worse. And Combeferre decided then and there that they would be going back to Paris as soon as possible. Where it would be just the two of them; no family-related stuff and hopefully that would settle Enjolras' emotional turmoil a little.

"I'm not angry", he spoke quietly, and it hurt him to know that Enjolras had feared he would be, "Of course I'm not angry, why would I be angry with you? You haven't done anything wrong…"

Enjolras did not respond, but melted further into Combeferre's protective embrace.

"I'm not angry", Combeferre repeated slowly, pressing a feather light kiss on top of the blond mop of hair, "But I am sorry…" He felt how Enjolras tensed ever so slightly in his hold and he swallowed the sudden knot in his throat. "I should have never pushed you into talking after you so bravely told me about your father. And I am so sorry about that. All I can say in defense is that the things you said made me so angry. With your father. What happened to you was so unfair and hearing it all just did something to me and somehow all that anger and outrage I felt came out in the form of pressing you for more answers. And that's just not right and I'm so sorry for breaking your trust. And I really hope you'll let me fix that, because I promise that I can…" He let out a shaky breath and frowned sadly; suddenly no longer able to finish what he had been rehearsing in his head for the past eight hours.

Enjolras shifted a little so that he could look at Combeferre. He hadn't even thought about the possibility that his friend would be feeling guilty anymore. He had completely forgotten that he had been really angry at Combeferre. All those feelings were consumed by the fear and panic that came over him the second he woke up. He bit his lip nervously and swallowed a few times. "I still trust you", he said quietly after a few moments of silence and it was the truth. "You never broke that trust…I was just…It was just too much…I overreacted…I'm sorry I ran out…I wasn't really thinking straight I guess."

Combeferre shook his head; now very close to tears himself. It hurt his heart to hear how Enjolras tried to blame everything on himself, while it had clearly been him who was in the wrong here. "Don't apologize, Enjolras, please don't apologize to me...", he muttered sadly. "I was wrong here; I made the mistake; you weren't at fault, not at all and you know that's true…so please don't turn this on yourself…"

He watched Enjolras with a concerned frown edged across his face. His friend didn't say anything, but averted his eyes and swallowed thickly. Combeferre quietly took hold of both Enjolras' hands and carefully traced the bandages with his fingers. He decided to change the subject for now; they could talk about their misunderstanding of the other day another time. "Do they hurt?", he asked softly. He really hoped they did, no matter how awful that sounded, because if they didn't then that would mean it was likely that the nerves had died away and Combeferre would never be able to forgive himself if they had.

He let out a relieved sigh however when Enjolras timidly nodded his head. "They sting a little", he whispered and then continued hesitatingly: "Will they heal?"

"Yes", Combeferre assured him, "They just need a little time, I promise…How are you feeling other than that?" The conversation felt very awkward and not at all like they used to talk to each other. Enjolras was really quiet and Combeferre thought about every word he said; tasting and weighing them first in order not to make the same mistake again and upset his younger friend. "Are you still cold?"

Enjolras shook his head.

"No problem anymore with breathing?"

Another shake. And then they were both silent for a while.

"Do you feel comfortable here?"

Enjolras hesitated this time. Then he slowly shook his head. He wasn't comfortable. Not at all. He was confused and scared and he didn't feel anything like himself. He was sad and he hurt and he just wished things were like they were on that Christmas day, when he had been truly happy.

Combeferre felt his heart clench painfully as he watched Enjolras shake his head at that last question. And the fact that the blond boy was looking at him with these wide, teary eyes – a lost expression in them – really did not help. He softly brushed Enjolras' hair back and pressed his lips together. Things weren't well. They were drifting and Combeferre knew it had everything to do with Enjolras' past and the fact that he did not know the things Enjolras knew. made it really hard for him to help. For the first time since they met Combeferre was starting to doubt if he was going to be able to fix it all. To fix his young, yet already best friend. "Can you tell me why you don't feel comfortable?", he asked quietly.

Enjolras shrugged his shoulders, then bit his lip guiltily and shook his head. "I'm not sure…I just…I don't know how to feel anymore…'s not your fault."

Combeferre closed his eyes in quiet desperation. When he opened them again he looked Enjolras directly in the eyes and tried to smile reassuringly. "Listen, I've been thinking…Maybe it's time for us to go back to Paris soon…I know my parents loved having you around and I think you've enjoyed your stay here as well, but you and I both know that you've been feeling worse every day. You're barely sleeping; you're having nightmares; you and I…", he paused and swallowed nervously when he thought back on the day before and the anger, worry and fear that had come with their first 'conflict'. "I just think this might have all been a little too overwhelming and too much for you…And I mean that in the most caring and nonjudgmental way possible…I think it would be better for you to get more used to the fact that you're not with your father anymore; that you're out…; discover what you really like or dislike; what you want or don't want…Find out who you are and what you're worth, start believing in yourself again…Just the two of us for a while, how does that sound?"

A tiny, shy smile tugged at Enjolras' lips and he nodded jerkily. "Yes, I…that sounds really…really good actually, 'Ferre…I mean…if you still want me as your roommate, because I'd understand you know…if after everything…"

Combeferre let out an exasperated sigh. He couldn't help it, Enjolras' lack of faith in himself and in their friendship was really starting to take a toll on him. "That right there is what I mean, Enjolras…this…this constant fear that I'm going to abandon you or that you disappoint me in some way or that I'm angry with you. You keep blaming yourself for things that really aren't your fault…It's got to stop, because you are worth so, so much more. You're ruining too much for yourself with all these self-loathing thoughts…We're going to need to work on that…And of course I want you as my roommate, you silly child."

Enjolras looked down again and nervously fiddled with the blankets surrounding him. "I'm not a child", he mumbled defiantly after a little while. Then he looked back up with glassy eyes and softly cleared his throat. "When do you want to leave then?"

"Tomorrow afternoon if you're up to it", Combeferre answered honestly, "I've already talked with my parents and they understand; although they are going to miss you…I do want that temperature gone first though, because I'm not taking you on a four day journey with a fever. But it's only noon now, so you'll have some time to rest yet."

Enjolras nodded and let out a deep breath. "What about your parents? They must be aghast by the stunt I pulled yesterday…I mean…they've done all this for me and I repay them by worrying you all and keep them up all night. They must be glad when I'm gone. I feel really bad though and I would like to apologize to them before we go…I really do appreciate these past days, Combeferre, you must believe me. I've really enjoyed myself, even though I've done a horrible job at showing you that…"

Combeferre looked at him sternly over his glasses. It was truly unbelievable; had he been talking to a wall for the past half hour? Had he not just told Enjolras that his parents loved to have him here? That they were going to miss him? "No, Enjolras, they are not going to be glad when you're gone, okay. They like you, they asked me to bring you again next time if you feel like it. And stop worrying about what happened yesterday. If you must know, they were more displeased by the fact that I gave you the feeling you had to run away."

The young blond only raised one eyebrow in response to that; clearly not convinced. But he did not say more on the subject.

* * *

Enjolras did his best to rest up as much as possible the rest of the day and evening. He did come downstairs for diner where both Marie and Marcus welcomed him warmly. Marie seemed truly upset that her son and his friend were already leaving again, but Combeferre promised her he'd be back soon. His birthday was already in two months and he swore to her they'd do their best to come back to celebrate with his family. He also assured her that they were always welcome to come and visit him in Paris.

Tomorrow afternoon came far too soon. Even for Enjolras - who had admitted to Combeferre that he wanted to go back to Paris - it was very hard to say goodbye. In only a few days time he had grown attached to Combeferre's family and he found himself hugging them goodbye without flinching or tensing up – which was quite the achievement for someone who had shied away from any intimate contact his entire life.

When both he and Combeferre were seated in the carriage – loaded with not only their own bags but some extra supplies forced upon them by Marie – Enjolras looked back at the house and promised to himself that he would come back if they'd want him to. That last bit of insecurity was taken away when Marie walked towards the window, leaned in and whispered quietly: "You're always welcome, Enjolras; you'll always have a home here. And a family."

And as the carriage drove off and the little fairytale house of Combeferre's parents faded away, Enjolras found it very hard to keep the tears at bay.

TBC.

* * *

_(And yes, they're off to Paris again. I'm going to promise to you that when they are there, Enjolras is going to meet at least one of the future Amis. I'm not going to tell you who that's going to be though. Please leave a review and tell me if you liked this chapter or not? Thanks!)_


	20. Chapter 20

(_Hi guys! Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews and follows. Means a lot :) I've got a lighter chapter for you this time, but don't fret; drama is on the way. One little note at the start of this chapter: the piano piece in this one was based on 'Comptine d'un autre été, après midi' by Yann Tiersen. I listened to the piano version while writing this and it just fit so well. Enjoy!)_

* * *

A week after Combeferre and Enjolras left Avignon, things were slowly but surely starting to go back to the way it was before they joined Combeferre's parents for Christmas. The journey back had gone well enough and only took them three days this time instead of four. Combeferre didn't have to go back to his classes until after New Year, so they still had a few whole days together after they arrived in Paris. And Combeferre was determined to make the most of it.

The first thing they set out to do, was to go into the city together to buy supplies of which they could make a new bed for Enjolras. They only needed wooden planks to make a frame and some stuff out of which they could fashion a mattress. Blankets and pillows were already sent after them in a carriage by Marie. Combeferre forbade Enjolras to really help him with the assembling of the bed; since his fingers weren't fully healed yet. So instead of doing that, Enjolras just sat down next to him and handed him all the stuff he thought Combeferre would need. Including a sudden frolic fight which ended in Enjolras gasping for breath and laughing tears when Combeferre tackled him down and found out that his young friend was especially ticklish around the neck. It was a sound Combeferre wished he could hear Enjolras make a lot more often.

After they had fixed the bed, they found a place to hang up Enjolras' already most treasured possession. It ended up in the tiny living room above the table so that it was visible from almost every point in the room and it was the first thing you saw when you walked in. Combeferre wished he could capture the look on his young friend's face when he looked up at his gift; pure delight and pride. It suited him well. And Combeferre couldn't help but wonder where Enjolras had found this great love for his country after he had known so little love himself. They spent the rest of that day and evening talking about anything that came to mind without delving too much in the 'family' subject. They discussed what kind of job was suitable for Enjolras to have once Combeferre's classes started again. They laughed about some of the most extraordinary people Combeferre had seen during his hours spent at the hospital. They played a game of cards; they read their books and they dined together at the table. There was no serious talk about painful childhood memories nor did they discuss their little fall out at Combeferre's parents. Combeferre was determined to make Enjolras feel completely at home. Make him feel that this was where he belonged and nowhere else.

Enjolras didn't have a nightmare for the first time since a week and half that night.

* * *

The other days were spent in a similar way. They spent practically every hour in each other's company and got to learn so much more about the other in just these few days than they had in the past few weeks; just by discussing random stuff and doing random things. One afternoon, after a walk along the Jardins du Luxembourg - which was now becoming a regular thing for them - they passed a group of boys and girls of various ages in the middle of a snowball fight. Being no more than a boy at heart, Enjolras watched them with longing excitement and after a few minutes he playfully challenged Combeferre to a fight of their own. Combeferre reluctantly agreed, but only because he wanted Enjolras to feel allowed to a be child; even if it was just for a few minutes.

When he got hit in the face by the seventh snowball - apparently Enjolras was a very skilled pitcher - Combeferre fell to the ground and raised his arms in surrender. His blond friend kneeled beside him. "Do you surrender and promise a life of equality and justice to all inhabitants of France? Men, women and children? Poor and rich?"

Combeferre couldn't help but chuckle at that and nodded. "I shall surrender and promise all you said."

Enjolras grinned, stood up straight and threw both his arms victoriously in the air. "Vive la France! Vive l'avenir!", he called happily, but yelped in surprise when Combeferre stood with impressive speed and pressed a snowball right in Enjolras' face. "Cheater! That's not fair, you surrendered!" But he was giggling and smiling and beaming and Combeferre's heart warmed at the sight.

* * *

Later that day, when they were making their way back to their apartment, Combeferre learned that Enjolras had a hidden talent for playing the piano. He had never spoken about it before, but when they passed a café with a piano just in front of the window, Enjolras had stopped dead in his tracks and – after a few seconds of just staring – walked inside. He let his eyes glide across the surface and carefully traced the keys with his fingers. He hadn't played a piano in months now and he only then realized how much he actually missed it. His parents had one and sometimes – when his father wasn't home – Enjolras got behind the instrument and just started playing. Of all the things he hated about his parental home and his childhood, this was one of the few things he had loved. It had offered him an escape from his miserable life; a moment of peace and harmony; an opportunity to forget about everything else.

"Do know how to play?" Combeferre asked quietly, and Enjolras jumped in surprise for he had completely forgotten where he was and who he was with; lost in his own mind and memories. He turned around to look at his friend and nodded modestly. Combeferre smiled at him and walked over to the café owner. Enjolras watched them talk for a second, but then returned his eyes to the instrument. It was absolutely beautiful.

A few moments later, Combeferre came back to him and he placed a gentle hand on Enjolras' slim shoulders. "Play something for me, then?", he asked with an encouraging smile and an affirmative nod. Enjolras' eyes grew wide and he glanced at the café owner, who nodded in his direction to let him know he was allowed to play the instrument. The young blonde let out a shaky breath and sat down; touching the stark white keys lightly with the tops of his still bandaged fingers. He sat like that for a few minutes – just to appreciate the beauty of it – and then carefully started to play. The second he did so, he felt his mind drift off and it was just him and the piano.

Combeferre was blown away to say the least. He watched with amazement how Enjolras' pale fingers flew over the keys and hit the most beautiful notes. He sat down quietly in a nearby chair, closed his eyes and listened; mesmerized. He noticed how other people in the café fell silent to hear Enjolras play too and he smiled as a sudden feeling of pride came over him. Combeferre opened his eyes again when Enjolras hit the final notes of the piece he was playing and his smile only grew wider when he noticed the bright red color decorating Enjolras' cheeks now that the boy looked up and saw everyone staring at him. He scrambled away from the piano, mumbled something about needing air and practically ran out of the café.

Combeferre followed him a few minutes later and found him leaning against an old well a little away from the café. His face was no longer bright red, although there was still a light blush surrounding his cheekbones. "Why did you run? Everyone was really amazed by your play, do you know that? One actually asked if you could play for some minutes more…"

Enjolras looked up at Combeferre and swallowed nervously. He shrugged his shoulders in response. "I'm not used to play for public…", was all he said. And it was true. He had only ever played for himself and sometimes for his mother, but that was it. To have a dozen people look up at him; listen to him, was something else entirely and he panicked. "And I'm not sure I like it either…", he mumbled quietly.

Combeferre smiled at him and draped an arm across his shoulders as they continued their way home. "Why not?", he asked curiously, "you're…well you're brilliant at it, you really are Enjolras. You managed to quiet down a quite vibrant café…that's pretty impressive."

Enjolras shrugged again. "I don't know. It's just something that was always just for me, you know…I never shared it; it's something private and I don't know if I want to give that up. And I don't really know if I'd like all the attention."

Combeferre nodded and squeezed his young friend's shoulders lightly. "Well, it is entirely your decision, but if you want to, you've found yourself a job. The owner was overcome with your abilities. He's willing to pay you in return for a few hours of musical entertainment spread over the week."

Enjolras let out a small sigh. He didn't want a job like that; he didn't want to earn money with something that was so personal; so special to him. It didn't feel right to exploit that by playing in front of all these bourgeois people and getting paid for it too. He wanted to explain it to Combeferre, but it was hard to find the words, so instead he just shook his head. "I don't want to, 'Ferre, I'd rather find other work…" He was almost to say it. He felt like was being ungrateful and spoiled – the kind of jobs Combeferre thought suitable for him weren't exactly up for grabs.

But Combeferre would never want Enjolras to do anything he didn't want to and so he gently ruffled his friend's blonde curls. "Don't feel bad, mon petit Ami", he said kindly, "We'll find something else for you if you don't want to do this. It's entirely up to you what you want. You know that as far as I'm concerned, you don't need a job at all."

* * *

On New Year's Eve, Combeferre and Enjolras didn't do much. They dined in a restaurant and spent a part of the night in a café where there were several musical performances and poetry readings. They returned home before midnight and celebrated the arrival of the New Year with just the two of them and a small bottle of champagne. They toasted to their friendship and to the future; to the beginning of a new start.

Combeferre's classes started soon after that and both Enjolras and Combeferre felt a little down when he darted across the apartment on the morning of the 3rd of January in his haste to gather all his books and essays. He was already late, but that didn't stop him from flopping down on Enjolras' bed and make his young friend promise that he'd eat both breakfast and lunch; dressed warmly and stayed out of trouble.

"Why would I be making trouble? I don't even know anyone else but you here…", Enjolras mumbled grumpily, "I'm just going out and look for a job and if I don't find anything, I'll come back."

"You remember what we agreed upon, right?", Combeferre said sternly, "I don't want you to do any physically demanded work; you're not going to the docks; neither do I want you to go to any of the area's we discussed yesterday. I'd rather just have you stay close to the apartment..."

Enjolras let out an annoyed sigh. He wasn't feeling all that well and it all had to do with the fact that his quality time with Combeferre was over. Of course they'd still spend time together and have days off, but Enjolras was just sad the past few days had already ended. He had really enjoyed himself and for the first time in a long time, he had hardly thought about anything that was even slightly related to his father or his past. "Yes, Combeferre, I know and I know and I know. We've gone over this three times already and even though I think I'm perfectly capable of doing heavy work, I promised you I wouldn't. Now you should go, because you're already late and your fussing is giving me a headache."

"I'm not saying you're not capable of doing that, I just don't want you to because it's not good for your health", Combeferre retorted as he pushed himself up from the bed. "Okay, I'm going now...I'll see you this afternoon, alright?"

Enjolras pulled the blankets back over his head in response and mumbled a quiet goodbye. As soon as he heard the door fall closed, he jumped out of the bed and made his way bare-footed over to the window where he watched Combeferre until his friend disappeared into one of the many Parisian streets. Then he slowly turned around, let out a small, dejected sigh and walked back to the bedroom to get himself ready.

He was out on the streets dressed in far too many clothes – ever since his night alone in the field, he had a slight fear for cold – within an hour and he was determined to return with the announcement that he had found a job. His breakfast was still sitting on the dinner table, forgotten, and would still be there hours later when Combeferre returned back home. The medical student rolled his eyes at the plate of bread and fruit and let out an exasperated sigh. "Unbelievable", he muttered under his breath as he pushed the plate away and dropped his bag on the table. He decided to start on his studies immediately, so that he would have more time to spend with Enjolras once his friend had returned home as well.

But Enjolras still wasn't back at six o'clock and Combeferre was slowly starting to worry. He hadn't liked the idea of the boy roaming the streets of Paris alone in search of a job. He hadn't liked it at all, but there wasn't anything he could really do about it. He wasn't in a position to forbid Enjolras doing that and he didn't want to be in that position either. They were friends – best friends, brothers even – but Combeferre didn't like telling Enjolras what to do or what not to do. There was a line he refused to cross. He was there to offer his friend guidance; not to constrain him. That would only lead to disappointment and resentment. So if Enjolras wanted to go out; get a job and start paying him back, then that was his friend's decision and he had to resign himself to that.

* * *

When the clock stroke seven and Enjolras still wasn't back home, Combeferre had had enough and he grabbed his coat from the peg. He couldn't believe that something had gone wrong on the very first day of Enjolras' job-hunt. It wasn't fair.

Just as he was about to open the door, he heard a key in the lock and Enjolras shuffled in; looking tired, worn and a little upset. He slammed the door closed behind him and wiped at his eyes, which were glassy and sad. He sauntered over to the bedroom and let himself fall down on his bed. He had refused to meet Combeferre's eyes or answer his questions all this time, causing the concern of the medical student to turn up a notch.

Combeferre followed his friend to the bedroom and sat down next to him. "Enjolras, what happened? Why are you this late? Did someone bother you? Did something happen? Could you please just answer me when I'm talking to you? I'm getting a little worried here."

Enjolras shook his head before burying it further into the pillows. He sniffled quietly and Combeferre wondered if he was crying. "Nothing happened", he muttered in a defeated voice, "Absolutely nothing at all. No one bothered me; no one wants to hire me. I've visited every single shop or café owner…I've gone everywhere that you'd think acceptable for me and no one wants me. They all turned me down angrily, like I was just messing with them or something…I've spent hours walking the city and the only people that wanted to hire me were those of who you said you didn't want me to work for. I even went back to that stupid café I played the piano in a week ago to see if he still had a job for me, even if I really didn't want it, but he turned me down as well. And I don't understand; why wouldn't they hire me? What's wrong with me? I'm a good worker; I have discipline; I'm smart…"

He trailed off and immediately stopped talking all together when he realized his voice was starting to crack. He was just so disappointed in himself. All he really wanted was to come home today and tell Combeferre he had found a job. But he had failed. And he hated the feeling of being a failure. He especially hated the feeling of failing Combeferre.

"Nothing is wrong with you, Enjolras", Combeferre soothed while he gently rubbed circles across his friend's back. "And you are right in all those things, any employer would count himself lucky to have you. And I'm actually a little happy that you didn't find anything today, because I think I might have found something that would be perfect for you."

Enjolras rolled on his side at hearing those words and looked at Combeferre with a confused frown. "What do you mean?" He asked quietly. How could Combeferre have found him a job while he had been away at University all day?

Combeferre smiled and dropped down next to Enjolras. "Well, remember that I told you about some my classmates at University? One of them, his name is Joly, he's actually quite a nice man and not at all that distant as I previously thought, although I do still think he's a little too obsessed with his own health and that of others..."

"Joly is the _malade imaginaire_?", Enjolras asked curiously. He remembered that talk specifically. Combeferre had been quite annoyed with this Joly and had come home to Enjolras all complaining and frustrated. It had been a rather funny sight in Enjolras' opinion.

Combeferre smiled and nodded. "Indeed he is. I got to talking to him today and I told him about a young friend of mine who was looking for a job and he told me about an old friend of his father's who owns a bookshop and is looking for some help. He's a rather old man and he'd like some younger employees who are quick and fresh and - as he's one prone for long and intellectual discussions - he wants a smart lad as well. I'd thought you'd be perfect for the job, so I stopped by the shop this p and the man is looking forward to meet you tomorrow morning. If it clicks, you can start right away..."

Enjolras looked at Combeferre with his mouth slightly agape. It sounded like a perfect job. He loved books; he'd be more than happy to work with them. Maybe he could learn some new things as well, if he was able to actually read them... Of course he knew legal bookshops were not allowed to sell any revolutionary work or work that criticized the monarchy, but still.

"Are you serious?", Enjolras asked hopefully, a small smile already playing across his lips. He had felt so miserable when he decided to come back home that evening and now everything completely turned around for him.

Combeferre chuckled and squeezed Enjolras' hand in his own for a second. "Yes, mon ami, I am completely serious. We'll drop by tomorrow morning before I go to class to see if it's something for you, alright?"

Enjolras nodded and his whole face lit up. He was about to say something but was rudely interrupted by his stomach which had chosen that exact moment to make itself known. Combeferre frowned and shook his head disapprovingly. "Don't tell me you've skipped lunch too?"

Enjolras could only smile apologetically in return.

* * *

The next morning found both boys leaving the apartment at eight o'clock. Enjolras was extremely nervous, but he couldn't help but feel a little excited too. He'd finally be able to start paying Combeferre back.

"It's useful to read pro-monarchy books too, you know", Enjolras babbled happily as they made their way to the shop, "Because then you can find those arguments that really do not hold any truth or strength and use it against them. The more you know about the other's point of view, the better you can understand and complete your own!"

Combeferre smiled and hummed in agreement. He listened gladly to all Enjolras had to say until they arrived at an old shop; packed full of books and a few red velvety chairs and sofa's. "We're here".

The talk with the owner went flawlessly. He immediately took a liking to Enjolras and the young blonde could start right away, three days a week (Combeferre preferred Enjolras to only work three and the owner agreed with him). "I have another boy working here too, my lad. He has been here for two weeks now and he'll be able to explain to you all your tasks. I'll introduce the two of you right away. He's in the back, I think..."

Enjolras looked back at Combeferre with a beaming smile on his face. His older friend waved his goodbye and took off; overjoyed by the fact that Enjolras had found a job to both of their liking.

When Combeferre was out of sight, Enjolras turned back to the shop owner and followed him to the back of the store where he found a young man behind a desk working on some papers. He had a dirty hat on his head, freckles all over his nose and cheeks and a wide, playful smile on his face. Enjolras guessed his to be only a few years older then him. Maybe around the same age as Combeferre.

The young man looked up and smiled politely at Enjolras. He stood and reached out his hand for Enjolras to shake. "You must be the new employee, it's nice to meet you. My name is Feuilly."

Tbc.

* * *

_(Okaayy so there we have our first real encounter with one of the Amis. I know many of you were rooting for Courf, but I have other plans for that wonderful boy in this story. I hope you liked this chapter, please review to let me know what you think? Thanks!)_


	21. Chapter 21

_(Hi guys! Thank you all so much for your reviews on the last chapter :) I'm so happy you liked it. I'm sorry this one took a little longer to get up, but I hope it was worth the wait :) enjoy!)_

* * *

Enjolras shook the hand that Feuilly reached out to him and smiled back. The young man and the owner of the bookstore seemed nice enough and even though Enjolras had been feeling more than a little nervous about meeting new people, somewhere he knew he would be feeling at ease soon enough. Feuilly beckoned for him to come behind the desk and he nodded his thanks to the older man.

"I've got it from here, monsieur Beaumont, I'll show our new worker around and fill him in on what he is supposed to be doing here", Feuilly said in a professional voice as he reached under the counter to grab a large dossier full of papers and files. "I will make sure these orders will be up to date by the end of this week."

Monsieur Beaumont nodded satisfied and patted Enjolras on the back a few times; not noticing the slight flinch or the sudden tenseness of the boy's body as he did so. Feuilly, however, did and he frowned a little before offering Enjolras a reassuring smile "Wonderful, my boy, wonderful. I will leave the two of you to it then. Monsieur Enjolras here will work three days a week from eight till three. You can have your lunch break together at noon, but please stay inside the shop today so you can still help the customers should they come in. I will be in my study; don't hesitate to call if you need me."

Feuilly watched the older man go before turning back to his new colleague. He gave him another bright smile and offered to take his coat and scarf from him. "So, Enjolras was it?", he asked kindly as he hung the younger boy's clothes on the peg in the corner of the room.

Enjolras nodded and looked around the room in amazement. There were so many books; the whole store was packed with them; old ones, new ones. Fairytales, Bibles, Law and History books; books about anatomy, astronomy, philosophy; books about nature and the world; there was a book on almost every subject imaginable - as long as it wasn't offending to the King or Church. He had been impressed with Combeferre's collection and overwhelmed by that of his parents, but never before had he seen anything like this. A small smile played around his lips as he took in the titles of the various copies on the shelf in front of him. Even after spending a month in Combeferre's company, Enjolras still felt blessed to be close to so many books; he was almost never allowed to touch anything other than a Bible in his parental home.

Feuilly watched him with an amused frown. He wasn't sure what to think of the boy yet; the first impression he made was definitely a little confusing. His outer appearance told Feuilly he was dealing with a wealthy boy; he had proper clothes; his hair was washed; he had a healthy blush on his cheeks and a charming smile. He didn't look at all like someone who needed a job; but rather like someone who was supposed to be in school learning and studying; getting ready for University maybe. All in all, from the outside, Enjolras looked as if he had lived an easy enough life. But the way he acted screamed the complete opposite. He was clearly nervous and shy; he was timid with hunched shoulders and an almost permanent downcast look. He seemed to be on edge and his bright blue eyes were skimming the room every now and then as if he was afraid of something. And then there was the obvious flinch earlier when Beaumont patted Enjolras on the back. Yes, the kid was sending him all these conflicting signals and Feuilly couldn't yet seem to get a clear vision of the boy in front of him.

"It's quite something, isn't it? I think Beaumont has one of the largest collections in his store in all of Paris. Well, save for the Library of course..", Feuilly said friendly, hoping to draw Enjolras' attention to him and away from the books for just a second so he could start explaining the work to him.

The blond boy turned back to Feuilly and smiled a little; glancing up at him for a moment and then casting his eyes down once more. "It is indeed", he said politely, "I've never seen so many of them in my life…My roommate already has a lot of them, but his is something else entire…" Enjolras walked over towards the desk where Feuilly was sitting and sat down in the opposite chair. His eyes shifted across the wooden table to take in all the papers, notes and lists. "So…what do I have to do?"

Feuilly smiled again, somehow very touched by this confusing boy in front of him, took some of the orders in hand and began explaining to Enjolras. He was fairly new to the job as well, so it felt kind of weird to guide his new colleague into the job -especially since it concerned tasks he wasn't able to do himself - but he felt honored to do it. "Well", he began friendly, "these are the lists of orders that you will be working with. Beaumont told me you could read and write, so it shouldn't be too hard in that case. You need to check every title we sell; what titles we get back in and if our stock is still up to date. You get all the numbers from me; I'll be doing pretty much all the counting and I'll help the customers in the store."

Enjolras nodded obediently and folded his hands in his lap.

"Also, uhm…I'm going to need your help from time to time, because unlike you, my alphabetical skills aren't that trained yet; I'm working on it and I'm getting there, but I still have difficulty with some things and Beaumont told me you were schooled, so it shouldn't be much of a problem for you",Feuilly bit his lip. It felt a little awkward to ask someone who was clearly younger than himself to help him read or write.

Again, Enjolras just nodded. Feuilly watched how the blond glanced up briefly to look at him, but there was no judgment or condemnation in his eyes. He just looked really nervous and Feuilly suddenly wanted to make sure the boy was going to feel at ease.

"Beaumont is a gentle and very reasonable man; so don't shy away from asking him anything. He's always willing to help, and so am I, should you get stuck with something. We get lunch breaks together and, though Beaumont prefers us to take our break here in the shop, it's more than okay too if we go out to get some air. The only thing he is very strict about are our working hours. Don't come late, he doesn't appreciate that. You are expected to be polite and friendly to all of our customers at all times; be helpful and be respectful to your superiors. You are free to check out and read all of these books, as long as you put them back were you got them and get your work done in time before you go home. Beaumont is also willing to lend you some of the books, but he wants you to ask him personally", he took a pause and eyed Enjolras carefully. He was obviously listening very hard; trying to take in every word Feuilly was telling him. Another small smile played along Feuilly's lips as he continued. "Now, it will often enough be just you and me here in the store, so if you want to know anything about me, or if you feel like talking, just ask away. I am an open spirit", he winked at Enjolras and smiled when he saw him visibly relax more. "Do you have any questions so far?"

Enjolras shook his head and forced himself to smile back at Feuilly. "No, I think…I think I got most of it…", he said quietly, "So, should I start right away? Or are there some other things you need to show me?"

"No, this is pretty much it for now. The store doesn't open until nine, which is still an hour away, so we can do the first few of these lists together, if you'd like?" Feuilly offered kindly and he took his chair and dragged it round the desk to sit next to Enjolras when the younger boy nodded; clearly relieved not having to start on his own right away.

* * *

They worked mostly in silence for the first twenty minutes, save from the few instructions or corrections on Feuilly's part. Enjolras seemed determined to do good; to impress; or, maybe, not to disappoint. When Feuilly gave him a compliment on his quick learning, Enjolras looked up with a shy, yet beaming smile and Feuilly felt his heart swell a little at the sight; a feeling he'd never had in his whole life before.

"So Enjolras, tell me something about yourself", Feuilly asked after a while, "Like how old you are; how long you have been in Paris; where did you grow up? You're not from here, I can tell by the accent...you're from the South aren't you?"

Enjolras visibly tensed at hearing all the questions. He knew Feuilly was just curious and wanted to get to know him better. They were colleagues after all...But Enjolras had the weird feeling of being cornered. He didn't like thinking about his past, let alone talk about it and he had wanted to pretend to anybody he met that he was born in Paris. But now Feuilly had completely ruined that cover by recognizing his Southern accent. He didn't even know he had one.

He swallowed nervously and cleared his throat. "I uh...I am fourteen and I grew up near Montpellier...and I...I've been in Paris for little over a month now", he muttered quietly. He hoped Feuilly would leave it at that; would stop his questioning. Enjolras did not like being questioned. But he had no such luck.

"All the way from Montpellier? Well, your father must be on important business then, if he has to travel all across the country for it. What does he do? Is he a merchant?" Feuilly wasn't yet aware of the growing discomfort of his younger colleague and he smiled merrily at Enjolras, who in turn pressed his lips together and looked away.

"No, he is not a merchant", Enjolras said a little bitter, because he didn't like the impressed look Feuilly gave him when they discussed his father. The man didn't deserve Feuilly's respect. "My parents are still there and they do not know that I'm here, nor will they ever have to know."

"Oh". Feuilly fell silent; Enjolras had ran away? Why? How? Feuilly hadn't expected that. And he really wasn't prepared for the pleading look in Enjolras' eyes urging him to drop the subject. "Okay, well, w-what about the man who brought you here, if you don't mind me asking...is he your brother?"

This brought a small smile on Enjolras' face. The thought of Combeferre as his brother really gave him a warm and safe feeling. Maybe they weren't brothers in blood, but to Enjolras - even after only as little as a month - they were brothers in everything else.

"Yes, he is as good as...at least for my part", the young blond said quietly; handing Feuilly his third finished order.

Feuilly smiled kindly and decided to leave it at that. "Well, well, look at that, a third order done. I think you might already be one of Beaumonts fastest workers. I am impressed."

And again, Enjolras couldn't suppress a grin spreading across his face and he ducked his head as soon as he realized he was blushing. Even after a month with more than enough praising from Combeferre, Enjolras still found it hard to accept compliments. It was difficult for him to believe he actually deserved them.

They worked in silence again for another few minutes until Enjolras had found the courage to ask Feuilly a question himself. "What about you?" It was spoken soft, but Enjolras managed to keep a firm and clear voice.

Feuilly raised one eyebrow in amusement. "What about me?", he asked curiously. Of course he knew what Enjolras meant, but he wanted his colleague to be more direct and comfortable around him. They were going to be working together for quite some time and Feuilly had an open mind, so there was really no reason for Enjolras to be this shy around him. And that's why he wanted the younger boy to ask him complete and clear questions.

Enjolras glanced up briefly at Feuilly and swallowed before turning back to his work. "Will you tell me something about yourself? Or do you not want to share, because then that's okay too...", he muttered to the piece of paper in front of him.

Feuilly eyed Enjolras thoughtfully for a few moments. There was something about him; some sort of great attraction and yet Feuilly could not really place where that came from.

"Well, unlike you, I've lived my entire life here in Paris. All of my eighteen years to be exact", he began lightly. His story wasn't one of the happiest and definitely not one of the luckiest, but Feuilly had no trouble talking about it. He was a positive spirit; optimistic and full of life. And when he took a look at those poor people roaming the dirty streets of Paris, he thought himself blessed, for at least he had had a roof over his head most of the time in this miserable, godforsaken and corrupt land that could have been so great.

"I lost both of my parents at a very early age; I do not even remember them. I was not born here in France, I am originally from Poland, but my parents were exiled and they fled to France. When they died, I was placed in the Orphanage, which is just as unpleasant as you have probably heard, but at least I was not dumped in the streets, so you will not hear me complain. I started working when I was eight years old and I have been working ever since. All kinds of jobs really; I've worked at the docks; I've cleaned chimneys; I've helped out in some Café's; then there's the Inn where I work in exchange for a place to sleep; if I have time I make fans and I try to sell them and now I have this job, which is without a doubt the best one I've ever had. Especially because it comes with quite some spare time in which I am allowed to try and learn as much as I can aboutas many things As I can. That's what I love to do, you know. I love to broaden my knowledge; learn more about our history; the history of the world; the people of the world. There has been so much growth already...It gives me hope that one day things will be better for people like me. That one day there will be equality and justice", he trailed off and chuckled to himself, "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I'm straying away from your question..My life is not an easy life, but I think I have managed well enough."

He looked at Enjolras and smiled at the expression on the boy's face. He was no longer looking at his work, but had his full attention turned to Feuilly.

"How can you speak of this so lightly?", Enjolras asked a little indignant, "about the injustice you have suffered? The unfairness of it all? Do you not want to fight? Do you not want to try and right the wrongs that have been done to you?"

Feuilly smiled at the sudden change of tone in Enjolras' voice. In just a few seconds he had gone from shy and timid to fiery and passionate. "Of course I do if I had the opportunity. Liberty is one of the many things I wish for all the people inhabiting this world; every man should be loved by his fellowman; every man should be loved by his country. But it is not that easy, my young friend, for a mere poor worker such as myself to bring that change. I have tried to join those who want to fight, but they do not allow people like me in their meetings; their organisations. They want workers to join the actual battle, yes, but only students and rich men are allowed to make the actual preparations. Having good ideals is one thing, but actually putting those ideals into action is quite another. And since I cannot be of much use to the current opposition, I try to make myself useful by learning as much as I can and helping people in other ways. And I speak lightly because what else do I have if not for my opportunism, hope and faith? I am alive; I have work; I do not live on the streets. I am blessed."

Enjolras blinked a few times without speaking and let Feuilly's words sink in. Then his face went very serious. "If they do not allow you to join their meetings and preparations, just because you are not a student or because your income does not match theirs, then they are no better than those they oppose."

Feuilly eyed Enjolras thoughtfully again. Yes, this truly was an extraordinary boy and Feuilly liked him. A lot. He smiled and nodded his agreement. "I think so too. But it is nearly nine and we would do better not to discuss matters such as these in public. Although it pleases me greatly to have finally found someone I can discuss it with. Someone who knows what he talks about, or so it seems." He winked at Enjolras and then stood from the desk to open the store.

Enjolras watched Feuilly go with a wry smile and thought about what the young man had told him. He already felt a deeply rooted sense of respect for Feuilly; and he was certainly someone he could learn from a lot. This job might turn out to be good for him in more ways than one.

* * *

The following few months, things went relatively well in Enjolras' life. He was really enjoying his job and he especially liked working and talking to Feuilly. His older colleague fascinated him; he knew so much about so many things and Enjolras caught himself asking question after question. And Feuilly answered them as truthfully and completely as he could. In return, Enjolras tried to help Feuilly with his reading and writing as much as the older boy allowed him. Enjolras had even invited Feuilly home to have diner with him and Combeferre a few times, but because Feuilly worked two or sometimes three jobs at the same time, he could rarely accept the invitation.

Apart from his work, Enjolas also felt completely at home with Combeferre; the two of them had grown even closer and Enjolras couldn't imagine a life without him anymore. Just thinking about it, caused him to panic and fret. But he knew that Combeferre would never leave him. He was certain of that by now and that piece of certainty made him feel safer than ever; because it meant that he would never be alone again.

The nightmares still occured, but they were much less frequent now than they had been months ago. Enjolras was starting to deal with his past; was starting to accept his future and he felt better every day. He and Combeferre still talked about some difficult things from Enjolras' childhood; things that Enjolras was now more comfortable talking about, but there was one subject; one secret, that Enjolras still did not want to share with Combeferre. A secret that still scared him; that had him looking back over his shoulder; that had him wake up bathing in sweat in the middle of the night. And as far as Enjolras was concerned, it would stay a secret. Never had he thought that it would come back to destroy his life so sudden and so ruthlessly.

* * *

It was on a Friday afternoon in March that the whole world came crashing down on them. Combeferre's classes would always end at three on Friday's, so he and Enjolras had agreed that Combeferre would stop by the shop to pick Enjolras up and they would go home together. They had been doing it that way ever since Enjolras started his job in January.

But when Combeferre entered the shop that afternoon, Enjolras wasn't there and Feuilly practically tripped over his own feet in his hurry to get to him.

"Combeferre! Combeferre, thank God you're here", he blurted out, "Enjolras isn't here, he left about an hour earlier, Beaumont fired him...you have to go home and check if he's there; see if he's okay? Please, I'm really worried, but Beaumont wouldn't allow me to go..."

Combeferre felt his heart sink. "What? Fired him? Why, what did he do wrong? What's going on Feuilly?"

Feuilly shook his head. There was no time to explain; Combeferre needed to go home..."There...t-there was this man in the shop and I think Enjolras knew him; he...he panicked, and..and the guy, he said some stuff, I don't know what, and Enjolras just completely freaked out and started yelling and he tried to hit the man and Beaumont came in at that point and one of his biggest rules is that you are to be polite and respectful to your customers at all times...And so he told Enjolras he had to let him go, and Enj ran out before I could say anything and I just...I'm worried..."

Combeferre had a hard time understanding the words that were just spoken to him. What on earth had happened? He blinked owlishly at Feuilly for a few seconds and then shook his head. This couldn't be happening. Not again. _Who was the customer?_

"I...okay, thanks Feuilly...I gotta go", he whispered confused and he turned around. He darted across the streets of Paris in some sort of haze; with only one thing on his mind: to get home as fast as he could. His heart hammered in his chest and all kinds of doom scenario's flashed through his mind._ Please, please be okay_.

Everything was going so well, what could have happened that caused such a reaction in his young friend? He was always polite; always respectful; always willing to help..._who is the man?_

Combeferre flew up the stairs two steps at a time and called out Enjolras' name even before he entered their apartment. When he finally unlocked the door, he was already out of breath and panting. He stumbled across the living room into their bedroom and came to a complete stop.

There he was. Huddled in the farthest corner of the room; shaking violently. He had his knees drawn up to his chest, his arms crossed over his head and his hair was a complete mess. When he looked up, Combeferre's heart skipped a beat; shocked by the terrified expression on his young friend's face.

Something was very, very wrong.

TBC.

* * *

_(Whoosh, this one was very hard to write for some reason. I hope Feuilly was somewhat believable and I hope you've enjoyed this chapter. Please let me know what you think and review? Thanks!)_


	22. Chapter 22

_(Hi guys! I'm sorry this took me so long to get up. I've been going over and over this chapter thinking how to approach the subject I wanted to write about. I've decided to spread it out. Hope you don't mind; you'll have to wait one more chapter to find out Enjolras' last secret. Apart from that, University has begun and I'm already swamped. The time has finally come that I have to start working on my Master's Thesis…oh my gosh…Enjoy this chapter!)_

* * *

Combeferre's heart sank as soon as he spotted Enjolras in the corner of their bedroom. His young friend didn't even seem to know Combeferre was in the room; he just kept staring at the door behind him and said nothing. It frightened the medical student. He had seen Enjolras at some of his worst moments in the past three month – had seen him happy, angry, scared and sad – but never before had his blond friend been like this: absolutely terrified.

He dropped his bag on the bed closest to him and slowly approached the huddled figure as if he was dealing with a frightened, wild animal. Enjolras started to shake more violently with every step Combeferre took in his direction. In response, Combeferre dropped to his knees, so that he was on eye level with Enjolras and he carefully reached out to tilt his young friend's chin up. Enjolras refused to meet his eyes and Combeferre wondered if maybe he was in some sort of shock.

"Enjolras?" he said quietly, gently brushing the curls out of the boy's eyes. "Enjolras? Hey…It's me, remember? Combeferre? Could you please look at me for a moment?"

But Enjolras didn't look at him; didn't even acknowledge him and only pressed further against the wall. Combeferre swallowed nervously and took hold of Enjolras' hand, squeezing hard in the hope that his friend would snap out of it and tell him what on earth was wrong. When there was no reaction, Combeferre decided to just go for what he hoped would be the most effective way of showing Enjolras that he was there. He leaned forward, pulled his young friend in an embrace and tightened his hold on him when Enjolras trembled even harder.

"Enjolras, please," Combeferre muttered directly into Enjolras' ear and squeezed the nape of his neck. "Please, you're scaring me here…"

* * *

No answer. Enjolras didn't even really know that Combeferre was there. He was completely lost in his own mind. Flashback after flashback attacking his mind and all he could hear were the words spoken by that vicious man only an hour ago. _I'm taking you home. I'm taking you home. I'm taking you home_. Enjolras didn't want to go home. He was terrified of going home. He didn't want anything to do with that man; that man that had finally pushed him over the edge and made him run away. He couldn't go back. Not ever.

"_You are to do as I tell you to! You will go there and you'll be obedient. This is not up for discussion. If you loved your brother and if you're truly sorry for what you did, you'd know you deserve this and you'd better go without protest._" His father's voice echoed through his head; forcing him to do his bidding, travel to his bourgeois friends and then do for them whatever they wanted. He'd been only nine years old. Nine years… And his father had sent him off to be an obedient servant. To be a slave.

"_Don't you dare question my reasoning, boy! I tolerate you in my house even after all the evil you've caused. You deserve punishment and you'd better be glad it's me who's punishing you instead of the police_!"

It was the only time in his entire life that he had begged his father. That he had gone down to his knees and cried and prayed and pleaded with his father to please – _please _– not send him away; to see reason. He could handle the beatings and the verbal abuse. He could deal with the neglect and the hatred; the insults and the disgusted looks. But not this. This had been a step too far. Never in his life had he thought his father would actually 'sell' him. Enjolras had fought him tooth and nail; had offered him things no son should ever offer their father. He didn't have much dignity left; his self-esteem was as low as it could possibly go, but this was beyond humiliating. It was disgracing. It would take away that last virtue he still tried to hold close. Freedom. And oh, how he had wanted to save that last bit of dignity he still had left, but no matter what he did or said or offered, there was no changing his father's mind. And so he went. To different houses; different families; different lives… Including that man's… He had seemed so nice in the beginning; Enjolras had actually enjoyed going there. If only he had known how wrong things would turn out...

* * *

"I don't want to go back, I don't want to go back," Enjolras muttered against Combeferre's shoulder like a mantra over and over again. "I don't want to go back, don't make me go back…Please…"

Combeferre had no idea what was going on in his young friend's head but he didn't like those words one bit. He was sure they had everything to do with the man that Feuilly had mentioned earlier and it made all his alarm bells go off. _Who was the man? It couldn't have been Enjolras' father… It couldn't have_. "You're not going anywhere, Enjolras," Combeferre said. And he cursed the slight tremor in his voice; he needed to sound convincing, because how else was he going to get through to his young friend. "You're not going anywhere. You're staying right here, with me. Until you're so sick of me that you want to leave yourself, but only then. No one will ever take you away from here without me; I promise...I promise Enjolras…please just…just talk to me?"

For some reason, those words were enough for Enjolras to snap out of his trance and focus on those strong arms around him; that soft, gentle voice right by his ear; and just the overall safeness and protectiveness that was Combeferre. He was still trembling and he was still terrified, but he was no longer stuck in his flashbacks. Without warning he felt his face crumple and tears were falling from his eyes. He buried his head in the crook of Combeferre's neck, fisted his hands in his best friend's shirt and started crying; sobbing; wishing that he could forever stay and hide in Combeferre's embrace.

Combeferre swallowed thickly as every wretched sound Enjolras made, pierced his heart. He tightened his hold and shifted so that he was sitting on the floor next to  
Enjolras with his back against the old, wooden wall. He didn't really say anything; he didn't know what to say. He had no idea why his young friend was suddenly so scared and upset. So instead, Combeferre settled for a firm hold and tried to calm Enjolras down by muttering soothing words in his ear and telling him that he was right there and would always be right there.

* * *

"How about we move some place a little more comfortable," Combeferre suggested quietly some time later when the crying had ceased.

Enjolras was now leaning heavily against Combeferre's chest and shrugged; breathing a little irregular and shivers still running up and down his body. He didn't really care where he was, as long as Combeferre was there beside him; holding him close; protecting him. He nuzzled a little closer to his friend and tensed when Combeferre tried to move away from him.

"Come on, we'll sit down on the bed, alright?" Combeferre said as he stood up straight and pulled Enjolras with him; his young friend clinging to his body as if something terrible would happen if he let go. Combeferre was very much aware of the anxious looks Enjolras threw around the room and the way his eyes were almost glued to the front door. The medical student gently guided Enjolras across the room and pushed him down on his own bed; farthest away from the doorway that lead to their tiny living room. Enjolras backed up against the headboard and drew his knees back up to his chest; making himself as small as possible. As soon as Combeferre sat down next to him and draped an arm over his roommate's shoulders, Enjolras leaned in and let out a small, shaky breath.

"D-Did you lock the front door?" Enjolras whispered after a little while; voice still thick with emotion.

Combeferre nodded and rested his chin on the top of Enjolras' head. "Yes, I locked it," he said softly, rubbing his hand across Enjolras' upper arm in a calming manner. "Don't worry…It's just you and me, you're safe." Enjolras made a small noise in the back of his throat and closed his eyes for a moment.

Combeferre stared into the distance and silently built up the courage to confront the small boy in his arms with what had happened. He had to know now. They could no longer beat around the bush. Not after what had happened in the bookstore and not after how utterly terrified Enjolras had been – still was. Combeferre sucked in a breath and lightly kissed the blonde curls under him. "Enjolras," he said softly; voice calm, yet pressing, "After all this…you uh…you know what I'm about to ask you, right?"

Enjolras tensed and opened his eyes again_. No. No, you cannot tell Combeferre. You cannot tell him what a disgrace you actually are. Combeferre would be aghast if he knew. No. No, you cannot tell._ Enjolras said nothing, but shifted in Combeferre's hold; heart beating a little faster.

"You know I don't like to push you into talking and I haven't done that for months now, but Enjolras…" Combeferre sighed tiredly, "You and I both know that we can't keep on pretending everything is alright. Not anymore. Not after what just happened."

Combeferre felt Enjolras recoil a little and he loosened his hold, tilting his young friend's chin up so that he could look him in the eyes. But Enjolras kept his gaze downwards and bit his lip. And though he still didn't say anything, Combeferre could practically hear the thoughts running through his head.

"Please?" The medical student tried again; his eyes pleading – begging – Enjolras to just open up. To finally let him in. To trust him.

But Enjolras slowly – very slowly – shook his head and he gave Combeferre an apologetic look. When he spoke, his voice was soft and remorseful. "No," he whispered and tears were once again pricking behind his eyes. "I can't…I don't want to talk about it. You told me I didn't have to talk about anything I didn't want to, please don't push me into this. Please? I don't want to tell you…I'm...I'm sorry…"

Combeferre was annoyed. He couldn't help it. It just wasn't fair. He let out an exasperated sigh, shook his head and looked up at the ceiling. He didn't see the hurt expression on Enjolras' face, but even if he did, it wouldn't change Combeferre's mind about this. He was watching his best friend crumble and there was nothing he could do to help, because Enjolras refused to let him in. He drew his arm back and shifted on the bed so that he was sitting opposite of his young roommate. "You cannot do this to me again, Enjolras," he stated in an irritated voice.

Enjolras flinched and looked up confused.

"You can't…You can't…Not after I dropped by the shop this afternoon to have a panicked Feuilly telling me you got fired because there was this man who said something to you and made you freak out in such a way that monsieur Beaumont saw it fit to let you go. Not after I come home to find you crouched down in a corner in some sort of shock; trembling so violently that I feared you were having a seizure. Not after it took me nearly fifteen minutes to get you to snap out of it and recognize me. Not after you broke down into a sobbing mess begging me not to make you go back. Not after I've seen how terrified you are. You can't do this to me, Enjolras. It's not fair. I don't deserve that."

Combeferre stared intently at the boy in front of him, who was no longer looking at him, but was now hiding his head in his arms. Combeferre knew he was crying again. He could tell by the shaking shoulders and the small hitch of his breath.

"I've been so patient with you. We've done everything at your pace, but you still refuse to let me in. You force me to watch you break right in front of me and then you push me away again. Do I not mean as much to you as you mean to me? Have I ever given you the feeling that you couldn't talk to me? Have you any idea how much it hurts to know that you still don't trust me?"

Enjolras' head snapped up at that; silent tears slowly making their way down his cheeks. "Of course I trust you…How can you say that? I've told you so much already. Just because I don't want to share certain things, doesn't mean I don't trust you. I'd trust you with my life, 'Ferre…I thought you knew."

Combeferre sighed and gave Enjolras a small smile. He took hold of his friend's hand and squeezed softly. "Of course I don't expect you to share everything. You're entitled to have secrets… But it's when those secrets start affecting your health – physically or mentally – that I want you to open up. And this thing, whatever it is, has been eating you from the inside out ever since we first met. You know it has. And I have given you so many opportunities already to just come and talk to me, but you refuse every time. So that means that there is still a part of you that doesn't trust me…"

Enjolras just shook his head and angrily wiped the tears away.

"What are you so afraid of?" Combeferre asked quietly, still holding Enjolras' hand. "Do you think that whatever you're keeping from me is going to change my opinion of you? You fear that somehow I will like you less?"

Enjolras sniffled and shrugged. _Yes_, he wanted to say. _Yes, you'll like me less. You'll think I'm a disgrace. You'll leave_.

"Do you think I'll leave?" Combeferre asked softly as if he had just read Enjolras' mind, "Because I won't. I wouldn't, not ever. No matter how awful that thing you're hiding from me is, no matter how low you think of yourself because of it, I would never leave. Never, Enjolras. When will you start believing that? You thought I'd leave after you told me about your brother, and I didn't. You thought I'd leave after you told me about your father, and I didn't. What on earth makes you think that I would now? Do you even have any idea how much you mean to me?

_Yes, I know_, Enjolras thought, _that's why I can't tell you. I would be such a disappointment_. But again, he didn't say it and instead twisted his hand out of Combeferre's hold. He swallowed thickly and looked up at his friend, eyes pleading with him to just let it go. "I don't want to talk about it," Enjolras mumbled again; guilt edged across his face, but with finality in his voice.

Combeferre gave him a disappointed look and huffed incredulously. There wasn't much else he could do. It hurt though. It hurt a lot to know that Enjolras still didn't feel comfortable enough to confide in him; even if that meant that he would be suffering in silence. Combeferre pushed himself up from the bed. "Fine then…suit yourself, don't talk, Enjolras. I'll be in the living room studying and then I'll make us some dinner." He left the bedroom before his young friend could say anything.

Enjolras remained in the same position on the bedand stared blankly ahead; feelings of guilt consumed his heart. Now that Combeferre had left the room, he was scared again. Stuck in a dark past that never seemed to loosen its hold on him. He sank down further on the bed and curled into a tight ball; eyes still fixed on the front door. _Please don't find me. Don't take me away_.

* * *

That night, Combeferre and Enjolras were still at odds. They had eaten dinner together, but they didn't speak. It was all too clear to Enjolras that he had hurt Combeferre's feelings and he hated himself for it, but did he really have another option? He was on the verge of breaking down in tears every time he caught Combeferre looking at him with disappointment, pity and concern shining in his hazel eyes. Enjolras hardly ate anything – the food only got stuck in his throat – and for the first time since he'd met him, Combeferre didn't comment on it at all.

Right after dinner, Enjolras had slipped back into the bedroom and he stayed there for the rest of the night pretending he was reading a book, but in reality, he didn't read a single letter. He was just staring at the pages in front of him while his mind journeyed back to harsh words and tender touches. For some reason, he was cold all the time, no matter how tight he had curled the blankets around himself. He felt like such a failure, messing up everything he cared about. He had lost his job, he had hurt Combeferre, he couldn't do anything right. _That is because you don't deserve any better; nobody likes you_, his father's voice whispered in his ear and Enjolras shivered.

When Combeferre came to bed a little after midnight, Enjolras pretended to be asleep, but the medical student wasn't stupid and he just shook his head and muttered a silent 'good night' when he passed his roommate's bed. As soon as he lied down on the mattress, Combeferre turned on his side facing away from Enjolras. He felt horrible. He hated it when he and Enjolras were at odds; hated it more than anything in the world. Especially because things had been so good between them the previous few months. Or at least, that's what Combeferre thought. He lay awake for another few hours, worrying and brooding about his younger friend and then decided that he would pay another visit to Feuilly first thing in the morning. He'd probably want to know if Enjolras was alright anyway and maybe he could tell Combeferre a little more about the man that had paid the shop a visit.

And with that last thought on his mind, Combefere's eyes slipped shut and he was asleep.

Enjolras was wide awake and as soon as he heard Combeferre's breathing even out, he was scared to death. _What if they found him? What if they found him and Combeferre wouldn't wake up in time to protect him? What if they dragged him away from here and back to Montpellier? Back to his father and back to his miserable life?_ He started to shake again and tried his hardest to block out the vivid images that assaulted his mind, but they just kept coming and Enjolras wished that Combeferre would just wake up again and keep watch. He jumped and flinched at every little noise, crunch or squeak and he suddenly longed for Combeferre's protective touch and warmth.

_Will he be mad if I go to him? Will he send me away because I didn't want to tell him anything?_ Enjolras turned on his back and stared at the ceiling. But he got more uncomfortable with every passing minute and after another hour or so, the first few tears trickled from his eyes. Wordlessly, he climbed out of his own bed and walked over towards Combeferre's. He stood awkwardly at the edge of the bed for a minute or so until he finally found the courage to pick up the blanket and slide in next to his friend. He tried to be as careful and as silent as he could be and turned on his side. They were now back to back, not touching, but Enjolras already felt safer.

He let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes, but completely froze when he felt Combeferre shift in the bed and turn around. _He's going to send me away now. He doesn't want you here after the way you've disappointed him._

But Combeferre didn't send him away. He just let out a deep sigh, turned around completely so that he was facing Enjolras' back and draped an arm around his younger friend's waist, pulling him close. In response, Enjolras buried his head deeper into the pillow in the hope to muffle the sudden strangled sob that threatened to make its way out of his throat. Combeferre always seemed to know what he needed most; no matter what disagreement they'd had. He intertwined their fingers and placed both of their hands on Enjolras' chest; right above his heart.

"I'm right here, mon petit Ami," Combeferre murmured quietly, voice still thick with sleep. And he squeezed Enjolras' hand to prove his point. "Sleep…"

Enjolras squeezed Combeferre's hand in return and closed his eyes. But even though he felt a lot safer now that his older friend was beside him, sleep still would not come to him. He lay awake until early morning, thinking over his disagreement with Combeferre and mulling over what had happened at the shop and he didn't fall asleep until the first sunrays sneaked through the window to light up the room.

When he woke up again hours later, the bedroom was empty and the apartment too silent. It didn't take long for Enjolras to realize he was alone and he started to panic. He knew his roommate didn't have anywhere to go on Saturday morning; there was no class and he didn't have to work. And yet he was gone. _He left you. He left you and you're alone now. They're coming to take you back. They're taking you back. _Enjolras flew across the apartment in some sort of blind haze and checked the lock of the front door. Then he pushed the dinner table against it, as well as the small kitchen cabinet and anything else that was nearby and moveable. Fatigued and scared, he stumbled back into the bedroom and collapsed on Combeferre's bed. He pulled the blankets over his head and prayed for his best friend to forgive him and to come back. _I'll tell you everything, please come back_.

He never saw the little note that Combeferre had left on the bedside table.

TBC.

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_(Please bear with me, I promise next chapter won't take as long as this one did and it will have all the answers you are waiting for. I hope you liked this one and please leave a review? Thanks!)_


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